Dry Bones
People keep talking about Luke Timothy Johnson’s article on the role of mysticism within religion that recently appeared in Commonweal. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you do. Here is a link to it: Dry Bones: Why Religion Can’t Live Without Mysticism by Luke Timothy Johnson.
The Lucid Dream that Self-Destructed
Last night I had a lucid dream. It lasted for about 15 seconds, alas.
It’s interesting how it played out. The dream was set in a hotel — kind of a cross between the Denver Radisson Graystone Castle and the Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town, only my dream hotel was older and seedier than either of those fine establishments. I had walked in the hotel from the rear parking lot, and stumbled across a pile of documents and materials that were cordoned off and being held by lawyers who were involved in a lawsuit. I stepped over these items, and noticed that some of them had to do with a band I liked. I walked up to the front of the hotel where a photocopier sat, next to a couple of pinball machines. I was working on a project for a marketing job I had, and as I got ready to photocopy one of the sheets in my project, I realized I needed a photograph of the band. So I immediately started walking through the corridors of the hotel to go back to where the lawsuit materials were. As I walked down the corridor, I realized I was dreaming. “Hey, this is a lucid dream!” I thought to myself. “Cool! I can do anything I want!” But, alas, this realization proved to be my undoing. Suddenly I felt as if, no matter how hard I worked my legs, I couldn’t make any progress walking down the hall, as if some invisible force were holding me back or keeping me “mired” in the spot where I stood. I tried to work my legs harder and faster… and woke up, thrashing my legs in the bed.
Sigh. So much for my adventures in lucid dreaming. Now that I am fully awake, I feel more amused than perturbed by this nocturnal psychic process. Perhaps I was my own worst enemy here — if I had just gone with the flow of the lucid dream, allowing my subconscious to guide me while I just enjoyed the unfolding story, perhaps it would have lasted longer. But it appears that I have an irascible and unruly subconscious, not to mention an arrogant and overweening ego. And so, as soon as my ego got involved — “I can do anything I (i.e., the ego) want” — the subconscious just threw the circuit breakers and brought the show to an untimely end.
I suspect there’s a moral in there somewhere.
Quote for the Day
It is common for those who argue for and against the existence of God to assume that the word God is used by believers to refer to something that we can point toward, distance ourselves from, and dispassionately reflect upon. However, one can reject this idea of God as nothing but a form of idolatry . . . This approach questions any expression that would reduce God to the realm of objects. Here no theistic rendering of God is allowed to lay claim to God, for God dwells above and beyond all names. God is rather approached as the ineffable source that is received but never conceived. God is thus not approached as an object, but rather encountered as an absolute subject who transforms our relationship with all objects. Just as the light in the room cannot be seen but rather allows us to see, so God is not directly experienced but rather is the name we give to a whole new way of experiencing . . . Hence, religious experience is not really experience as such but the opening into a different way of experiencing.
— Peter Rollins, The Orthodox Heretic and
Other Impossible Tales
L’Arche Atlanta
Fran and Rhiannon and I attended a gathering of the Friends of L’Arche Atlanta on Saturday evening. We’ve been meaning to get to a L’Arche meeting for some time now, but there always seemed to be one conflict or another. Now that we’ve finally made it, we are going to be more intentional about making L’Arche a priority in our lives.
If you’re not familiar with L’Arche, it’s worth getting to know. Founded by Jean Vanier and immortalized by Henri Nouwen in his book The Road to Daybreak, L’Arche (French for “the Ark”) is an international collective of communities and programs designed to support individuals with intellectual and learning disabilities by creating homes where such persons and those who assist them may live communally. As I quipped more than once Saturday evening, “We already have a L’Arche home!” because of Rhiannon’s disabilities. Of course, that’s not entirely true, as our “community home” is knit together by the bonds of family, but my sense is that L’Arche homes hope to create their own sense of “family” within the scope of intentional community.
Friends of L’Arche Atlanta is a network that is seeking to establish a number of L’Arche homes in Atlanta, with the first one scheduled to open in 2011. Part of what made Saturday evening’s meeting so much fun for us is that, even though this was our first time at a L’Arche gathering, we were surrounded by people we know and love — folks we’ve known through the greater disability community, through St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church or the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, and even through the Contra Dance community (L’Arche’s monthly meetings have a strong social focus, and this meeting featured a contra dance, with a band and caller that were comfortable working with people of differing abilities. Needless to say, it was rollicking good fun).
I don’t know if L’Arche qualifies as “new monastic” or not, but for my purposes the excitement I felt Saturday evening seemed to fire the same synapses in my brain that I find when I read the writings of Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove or Shane Claiborne or, for that matter, Dorothy Day. Part of what I’m looking for in a spiritual community is the intentionality of a daily practice of contemplative and liturgical prayer, and my sense is that L’Arche, being inclusive and ecumenical, does not emphasize such a discipline. But just because I’m not sensing much of a call to live in a L’Arche home doesn’t mean I can’t plug in to this community on an at-large level… it seems to me that L’Arche needs its “oblates” or “third order” members just like any other intentional, spiritual community. And so that’s part of why I’m writing about it this morning — to encourage my readers to make your own connection with L’Arche. L’Arche communities can be found around the world, with new ones developing all the time, so look for L’Arche near where you live. I think just hanging out with follks, some of whom have serious disabilities and others who don’t, just having fun together, laughing together, getting to know one another — without any particular “program” to work or task to complete — gives birth to some powerful energy. It rather feels like the Body of Christ.
Here are some books to explore if you want to deepen your sense of L’Arche, or of its founder, Jean Vanier:
Also, for those of you who are on Facebook, join the Friend’s of L’Arche Atlanta’s Facebook page.
Suggested Reading for Protestant Mysticism and Contemplative Spirituality
If you’re going to participate in the class on the Protestant Mystics that I’ll be teaching at First Christian Church of Atlanta starting on April 6, then you might enjoy reading one or more of these books. They’re all written by Protestant authors and each one features a different dimension of Christian spirituality that is mystical and/or contemplative in its focus. None of these books are required for the class, but they are all well worth reading — so I’m listing them here for your optional consideration (and if you’re not going to be in the class, or live outside of Atlanta, reading one or more of these books can be a way for you to explore the mystical dimension of Protestant spirituality on your own. Remember, for the purposes of the class (and this book list) “Protestant” is used as an umbrella term to describe any of the western churches with roots in the Reformation or its aftermath, including the Anglican, Reformed, and Evangelical traditions.
Happy reading!
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. Yes, this is a children’s book — but it is for “children of all ages,” and furthermore is a richly evocative allegory of the traditional understanding of the spiritual life. Conversion, reconciliation, liberation from the bondage of sin, temptation, embracing of silence, growth in holiness, the dark night of the soul, the experience of illumination and consolation, and the final dazzling experience of union are all treated in turn, under the guise of a charming story of children taking a magical sea voyage to the “End of the World.” It’s fascinating, in that C. S. Lewis, like many devout Protestants, was uncomfortable with the term “mysticism” and disavowed that he himself was a mystic. But reading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader with an eye for the elements of mysticism, you might begin to think that Lewis was overly-humble.
Practical Mysticism by Evelyn Underhill. This classic book, first published in 1915, is a wonderful companion piece to Underhill’s earlier work, Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Spiritual Consciousness. In the earlier work she established herself as a scholar of Christian mysticism with a scholarly, academic treatment of her topic. Practical Mysticism, as its title implies, is not so much about the theory of mystical spirituality as it’s real-world relevance to, in Underhill’s pre-inclusive-language words, “the average man.” Assuming no knowledge of mysticism, she begins by defining her terms and explaining the value and importance of mysticism in the language of ordinary men and women, drawing her illustrations from family and professional life as much as from religion. Underhill provides step-by-step instruction for engaging in basic spiritual practices such as prayer and meditation; although her century-old language is somewhat dated, the content of her work remains relevant today.
Mystical Hope by Cynthia Bourgeault. Bourgeault is the only author in this list who is alive now; an Anglican (Episcopal) priest from British Columbia, she is a respected teacher of centering prayer and her books have been lauded as some of the best available literature on that particular spiritual practice. But Bourgeault’s contribution to Christian spirituality goes beyond merely supporting the revival of Christian meditation; she has a clear vision of Christian spirituality as transformation of consciousness and her work is based on the idea that Jesus is not only the Savior and the Son of God, but is a profound wisdom teacher whose words can literally transform our lives. Mystical Hope is Bourgeault’s shortest book, about transforming our relationship with God from fearful duty to joyous love and trust; it’s a brief and accessible introduction to the visionary nature of her teaching.
Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. This inspirational classic was written expressly for women, but I think its message is sufficiently universal that men should read it as well. While not “mystical” in the sense of dramatic or extraordinary, this gentle and unassuming book uses the metaphor of different seashells to celebrate the promise and pleasure that can be found in a contemplative, mindful approach to life. The book recounts the story of the author’s retreat on a Florida beach; reading it can be almost an “inner retreat” for those whose life circumstances may not permit a month or so spent by the shore. Written in the 1950s before the significant social changes of the following decade (including the rise of modern feminism), Gift From the Sea sometimes reads like a memo from a lost, earlier, simpler age; but the values it advocates — putting family before ambition, for example — remain, if anything, even more urgently important today than ever.
Hind’s Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard. This book is kind of a twentieth century homage to The Pilgrim’s Progress, in that it features allegorical characters with stylized names like Much-Afraid, Dismal Forebodings and Grace and Glory. Like her name indicates, Much-Afraid struggles with lack of faith, and finds her transformation by learning to trust the Shepherd, and allowing herself to be led to new heights of love, joy and victory. Moving through her fears and torments to reach the High Places, Much-Afraid receives not only a new name, but a new calling — to take her transformed life back down into the valley of Service.
So there you go — several books to read with an eye to how Christians from the Anglican and Reformed traditions have explored the call to go deeper into the Christian spiritual life. Enjoy.
Concerning Myth and Miracles
One of the fun things about blogging is the fact that I’m always getting in trouble, one way or the other.
Here’s my latest infraction — on Thursday when I wrote about the Annunciation, I dared to say “Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth, it’s a powerful story that is well worth our consideration.” This was too much for a reader named Andy who commented:
I’ve been following your blog with interest for a few weeks now, but I suppose I finally see I’m just in the wrong place when you feel the need to spoil an otherwise insightful and moving reflection on Mary’s Fiat with “Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth…”
Another reader promptly came to my defense:
Andy, for those of us who struggle with what we’ve been taught to believe, Carl gives allowance for us in his inclusive language. If you believe Mary’s Fiat was miracle, then there is room for you. If I believe that it is a great and beautiful myth, there is also room for me here. And in the sharing we are both informed and informing.
For my part, I’m sorry that Andy decided my blog is “the wrong place” merely because I try to be honest about my own agnosis. Of course, this is his decision. But as an alternative to that type of decision, I hope that we can all learn, in Christ, to offer hospitality even to those who say or write something with which we strongly disagree. Not that we have to submit to their views; we can let their opinions be theirs and ours be ours. After all, Christ may have argued with the scribes and the Pharisees, but he also was willing to break bread with them.
The Zen master Hakuin said there are three qualities necessary for Zen: great faith, great doubt, and great perseverance. I think the same can be said for Christianity, at least for contemplative Christianity. (more…)
New Monasticism
New Monasticism: What it Has to Say to Today’s Church
By Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2008
Review by Carl McColman
“We are waiting not for a Godot, but for another — doubtless very different — St. Benedict,” says Alasdair Macintyre at the conclusion of After Virtue, his withering critique of the ethical vacuum in postmodern society. And while the triumphalist voices on the hard Catholic right might loudly proclaim that this mantle belongs to Benedict XVI, for many others the current pope is too awash in the church’s scandals and intransigent polity to be relevant too far beyond the adulation of the super-faithful. Meanwhile, perhaps the “new Benedict” is not a person so much as a movement—which is what makes the “new monasticism” or neo-monasticism such an interesting phenomenon.
At first blush, the new monasticism seems quite different indeed from the old variety. New monastics often (but not always) are married, wear no distinctive clothes, take no vows, and are just as likely to worship in non-Catholic as Catholic churches. The poster child for the new monastic movement is Shane Claiborne, a skinny tall white guy with dreadlocks and a goofy laugh who hailed from the hills of Tennessee but then moved to Philadelphia where he became an activist for homeless persons and a founding member of the Simple Way, a collective of folks who describe themselves as “a web of subversive friends conspiring to spread the vision of ‘Loving God, Loving People, and Following Jesus’ in our neighborhoods and in our world.” In other words, the new monasticism is all about relationships; it’s not about leaving the world so much as immersing more fully into it, heading not out into the desert or the wilderness (although presumably that’s possible) but rather finding monastic stability in “the abandoned places of Empire” like the inner cities or neighborhoods that have been blighted by crackhouses or toxic waste dumps.
If the old monasticism focused on liturgy, the new monasticism focuses on service — as Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove says in this book, “Less services, more service.” The old monasticism strove for holiness through moral purity, while the new variety is more likely to stress hospitality as the means to a holy life. Both old and new emphasize contemplation, but the old too often saw the contemplative life as “higher” than the active life (see The Cloud of Unknowing) while the new monasticism insists that contemplation only works as a partner to action.
Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove may not have quite the star power of Shane Claiborne, but he is an important voice and a key player in the new monastic movement, and this book serves as an introduction both to him and to the communities he represents. (more…)
Annunciation and Declaration
Today is the feast of the Annunciation, commemorating the encounter between the Archangel Gabriel and the young maiden Mary, when Gabriel announced that Mary would conceive the child Jesus.
Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth, it’s a powerful story that is well worth our consideration. It’s a story about call, about vocation, about how our individual destinies or life purposes are knit together in a larger, grander, cosmic story. I’m reminded of the song “Terrapin Station” by Grateful Dead: “The storyteller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice; his job is to shed light, and not to master.” Certainly this was the kind of energy that Gabriel brought to the peasant girl: the archangel did not imperiously decree that she would submit to this fate chosen for her — “you’re going to do this and you’re going to like it” — so much as simply stating the situation (“you’re going to have a baby”) and imbuing it with mystical light (“God has found favor with you… nothing is impossible with God”). It was Mary’s fiat — her affirming response: “let it be with me according to your word” — that functions as the dramatic capstone of the Annunciation. God may have issued the call, but it was Mary’s call (pardon the pun) as to whether or not she would receive her vocation with joy, with serenity, with faith.
We can get lost in gender politics here, and this story certainly can be interpreted as an unfortunate chapter in the history of the silencing of women. But I think such a reading downplays Mary’s dignity. Mary didn’t have a choice in whether or not she would conceive, true enough. But she did get to choose how she would deal with it. Frankly, by the dictates of common sense, Mary should have been freaking out on an epic scale: as an unmarried pregnant woman, she would have been a likely target for social ostracization or even murder (what they matter-of-factly called “stoning” in her day, now perversely described as “honor killings”). Mary’s fiat was a dramatic twist, an ironic moment that flew in the face of convention and social propriety. God may have surprised her with a miraculous pregnancy, but she surprised God back by choosing to go with the flow, mindfully and consciously.
So I wonder if this Feast Day shouldn’t be renamed the Feast of the Fiat, or perhaps the Feast of Mary’s Declaration. I remember a preacher once saying that what was remarkable about Jesus was not the resurrection — any self-respecting deity should be able to raise himself from the dead — but the crucifixion, to which Jesus offered his own fiat. Every one of us has the opportunity to declare our willingness to embrace our purpose, our destiny, our call — or even just the unfair challenges that tumble down into our lives. Thankfully, such a call will not always entail embracing a miraculous unplanned pregnancy or facing a cruel, painful death. But that’s not to say the call will always be fun or easy. After almost 18 years, I’m still trying to figure out how to say fiat to my calling to be the stepfather of a seriously handicapped young woman, without indulging in anger or bitterness or other shadow emotions that lurk in the more stressful moments of our shared family life. When the angel comes to you or to me to make the annunciation, who knows what we will be told? Feed the poor. Consume less energy. Befriend the person who votes differently, or whose sexual ethics are unlike your own. Stop judging your parents (or your children). Get help for your drinking problem. Join an intentional community. Devote an hour a day to silent prayer. Accept the fact that you will never walk again, or that you will be dead in six months. And on and on the list can go.
Once the annunciation is made, then comes the silence. Soon you will no longer hear the storyteller’s (angel’s) voice. In that open, luminous space, we make our declaration to life, to God, to the cosmos. We can say fiat or we can begin to whine and argue or make excuses. If you’re like me, chances are you’ll do some of both: you’ll say “yes, but” which is , I suppose, part of being human in a less-than-perfect world. That’s okay. But I don’t want to let us off the hook, either. For our declaration, whether irenic or combative, will not only shape our own experience of our destiny, but will also color how we live out our lives in relation to others. Cue the serenity prayer: saying yes to the things we cannot change, and being wise and heartful about those things we can, will make all the difference. There’s plenty of room to chart our own course even in a world where big things happen that we cannot control, big things that will shape our lives in horrible (or glorious) ways.
Cleaning the cobwebs out of our own minds (through the discipline of contemplation) is always a good place to start.
“Counterfeit” Mysticism and Oppositional Consciousness
The other day a woman named Diane Stranz posted a lengthy comment to my Contemporary Mystical Experience page, in which I quote the passage from my book The Aspiring Mystic describing an extraordinary experience I received as a teenager while attending a Lutheran youth weekend. In the passage, I go on to mention that, at a later date, I experimented with psychedelics. Ms. Stranz has some interesting thoughts in response to my experience, and I quote her in part:
It is my belief, and the belief of many like-minded others, that no one who has had a genuine mystical experience of God’s presence would decide thereafter to try drugs for any reason. God’s presence cleanses us, sets our feet on a path towards union with Him, and provides us with the strength to engage only in activities of His choosing . . . and doing drugs is not on that list. … To be honest, Carl, the fact that you later tried LSD is one indicator amongst many that the supernatural experience of ‘glowing presence’ you describe in this blog post was not a genuine mystical experience, but, instead, a chimeric illusion. Deceptive supernatural presences — be they rogue elements within the collective unconscious, per Jung, or spirits acting in rebellion to God per classic Judeo-Christian belief — ABOUND in the world, and they LOVE to induce feel-good experiences of light, warmth and peace. These comforting experiences lull individuals into thinking God loves them just the way they are and there is no need for self-examination, the confession of sin, contrition, or attempts to conform to a higher standard of conduct and attitude. New Age literature is full of testimonies similar to the one you recount here, and none of them advance one’s spiritual evolution towards union with God.
Okay, I’ll try not to get defensive here. But please forgive me if I fail. I suppose the interesting question here is not about me — it’s not about whether my own experience was chimerical or not; in the larger scheme of things, I suppose vindicating (or dismissing) something that happened to me over thirty years ago doesn’t really matter. But what does matter is the theology that lies beneath the logic that would dismiss my experience because of a subsequent choice I made. What Ms. Stranz appears to be saying is this: a genuine mystical experience will result in immutable, lasting changes in consciousness and behavior that will, among other things, result in a permanent fast from mind-altering substances. Logically, therefore, anyone who undergoes an extraordinary or mystical experience who does partake in mind-altering substances must have had a deceptive, rather than enlightening, experience, arising either from their own ego or from a malevolent spirit.
Several things bother me about this line of thinking. (more…)
Supersizing the Last Supper
An interesting article talks about research showing that the depiction of the food at the last supper in art over the last 1000 years reveals a trend, over time, of depicting the meal as, well, bigger. Generally speaking, the older the painting, the smaller the portions at the first Eucharist.
Here’s the link: Study: Last Supper paintings supersize the food
I know that the “Agape Meal” folks suggest that the Eucharist ought to take place in the context of a shared meal. Perhaps such a shared meal needs to be modest in its proportions, however.
Attention Bible Lovers: Win an iPad!
I don’t normally post contests on this blog, but this one seemed like too much fun to pass up… and the grand prize is an iPad! Other prizes include a Kindle, an iPod, and Bibles. The contest is sponsored by Tyndale House Publishers and is designed to promote their New Living Translation of the Bible.
Here’s the info:
The New Living Translation Break Through to Clarity Bible Contest and Giveaway
Visit www.facebook.com/NewLivingTranslation and click on the tab that says “Sweepstakes”
Fill out a simple form, take a quick Bible clarity survey, invite your friends to join and you’ll be entered to win one of our exciting prizes. With each fan number milestone a new prize will be given away.
Grand Prize: Apple iPad 64G and a Life Application Study Bible
Awarded when the NLT Fan Page hits the fifth milestone
Retail Value: $829.00
2nd Prize – Already awarded: 32G iPod Touch and a Life Application Study Bible
Awarded when the NLT Fan Page hits the fourth milestone
Retail Value: $300.00
3rd Prize – Will be awarded when fan count hits 3500: Kindle DX and a Life Application Study Bible
Awarded when the NLT Fan Page hits the third milestone
Retail Value: $489.00
4th Prize — Will be awarded when fan count hits TBD: Apple iPad 16G and a Life Application Study Bible
Awarded when the New Living Translation Fan Page hits the second milestone
Retail Value: $499.00
5th Prize — Will be awarded when fan count hits TBD: Apple iPad 32G and a Life Application Study Bible
Awarded when the NLT Fan Page hits the first milestone
Retail Value: $599.00
Prize Eligibility – Recently updated to include more countries: Sweepstakes participants and winner(s) can be U.S. residents of the 50 United States, or residents of any country that is NOT embargoed by the United States, but cannot be residents of Belgium, Norway, Sweden, or India. In addition, participants and winner(s) must be at least 18 years old, as determined by the Company.
Sweepstakes Starts: March 17, 2010 @ 10:24 am (PDT)
Sweepstakes Ends: April 30, 2010 @ 10:24 am (PDT)
Wait, there’s more!
Visit http://biblecontest.newlivingtranslation.com/index.php for a chance to win a trip for two to Hawaii!
Here are the details:
Choose one of six passages of Scripture from the New Living Translation and consider:
How do these verses encourage you to know God better?
What is God teaching you in this passage?
How does this passage apply to your life?
Submit your answer and you’ll be entered to win.
Just for signing up: Everybody Wins! Win a Free .mp3 download from the NLT’s new Red Letters Project. It’s the dynamic, new presentation of the sung and narrated words of the Gospel of Matthew. You win the download just for entering! Or choose to download the NLT Philippians Bible Study, complete with the Book of Philippians in the NLT.
Every day, one person will win the best-selling Life Application Study Bible!
The grand prize: One person will win a fantastic trip for two to the crystal clear waters of the Turtle Bay Resort on Oahu’s North Shore in beautiful Hawaii.
There you go. Have fun!
Water, Wind, Earth & Fire
Water, Wind, Earth & Fire: The Christian Practice of Praying with the Elements
By Christine Valters Paintner
Notre Dame, IN: Sorin Books, 2010
Review by Carl McColman
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that St. Francis of Assisi’s “Canticle of the Creatures” (also known as the “Canticle of the Sun”) is a powerful and poetic evocation of God’s presence in the elements of nature. But few Christians, in my experience, seem to draw the connection that if the elements are indeed agents of God’s blessings and means by which we can offer blessing and worship back to God, then it might make sense to think in terms of “air prayer,” “water prayer,” and so forth. This is the simple yet powerful premise of this lovely new book from Christine Valter Paintner, a Benedictine Oblate and the founder of the Abbey of the Arts website which explores the connection between spirituality and creativity.
Some of my readers may wonder if this is a crypto-Wiccan book, and indeed anyone interested in creative cross-fertilization between Neopaganism and Christian spirituality will find much to explore in this book. But let’s be clear: the four elements (air, fire, water and earth) are universal energies, since they are grounded not only in the nature of the earth, but indeed in our very bodies (think of it: your skeleton and flesh are earth, your blood is water, your lungs and breath bring you air, and the very heat your body generates is the fire within you). Historically speaking, knowledge of the four elements and exploration of their spiritual meaning can be traced back to Greece, where Plato speaks of the elements, following the earlier Sicilian philosopher Empedocles. In other words, our earliest knowledge of the elements is not occult or magical, but rather philosophical and scientific, in scope. For Christians today, befriending the four elements is a way to honor the incarnational dimension of our faith, seeing God’s presence in nature just as we believe the Holy Spirit and the Mind of Christ is present among those who are knit into the community of faith.
Water, Wind, Earth & Fire is essentially a workbook (“playbook”?) for prayer, divided into sections where Valters Paintner explores each element through poetry, stories, blessings, quotations, lectio divina, and suggestions for prayer and reflection. Most of the connections she highlights are obvious enough: water is linked to baptism, air to centering prayer, earth to feasting. This is not a book of secrets revealed so much as earthy common sense: water goes with the flow, fire brings passion and creativity, earth stabilizes and grounds us. Weave all four elements together and we find balance, perspective, and a sense of being at home in the good universe God has given us.
Obviously, this book should appeal to anyone with a love for Franciscan or Celtic expressions of Christian spirituality. But I think the author was wise not to limit her exploration of the elements to those particular strands of wisdom. Water, Wind, Earth & Fire feels universal in its tone and its application — it is a book for all Christians, and indeed, for all people, anyone who might be interested in finding out what mystics like Hildegard of Bingen or John of the Cross or Thomas Merton might have to say to the question of bringing prayer and nature together.
Speaking of World Mysticism…
Attention Atlanta-area readers…
Introduction to World Mysticism — a four week class offered through the Emory University Center for Lifelong Learning — starts on Wednesday, April 14. Follow the link to register for it!
And if you’re not convinced that you would absolutely love this class, try listening to this MP3: Carl McColman talks about mysticism: what it is, and why it matters, in this interview which originally aired on Atlanta’s AM 1690 in September 2008 (to promote this same class when it was offered a few years back).
Click here to listen:
Contemplative Programming That Would Interest You
Please take a moment to respond to this poll. I’m looking for insight into what people would like to see in programming offered by a local center for spiritual development. In answering this poll, please only check those items that are sufficiently interesting to you that you would make a real effort to attend. Thank you for your input.
Of the Equinox and the Spirituality of the Earth
Twice this week, on two separate occasions coming from two different individuals, I have been invited to participate in Spring Equinox rituals that will take place this weekend.
Ten years ago that would have been nothing remarkable, as I was a regular participant in Wiccan and Neopagan groups like the House of Oak Spring or the Grove of the Unicorn or the now-defunct local grove of Ár nDraíocht Féin. But since I wandered “out of the woods and into the Catholic Church” in 2005, understandably my number of invitations to Wiccan Circles and Pagan Rituals have been in short supply. So I find it interesting that I would get not one, but two, offers to honor the turning of the wheel this time around.
And the real irony: both invitations come from Christian friends. Not “Christian” in the sense of “that was how I was raised but I don’t really believe it,” but Christian in the “going to church every Sunday and trying to follow Jesus the best I can” sense.
So… why are the Christians who love the turning of the seasons suddenly coming out of the woodwork? I’m not really sure. But it does seem auspicious, in that just this week I’ve begun reading Christine Valter Paintner’s newly-released book Water, Wind, Earth, and Fire: The Christian Practice of Praying With the Elements from Sorin Books, an imprint of Ave Maria Press (about as mainstream a Catholic publisher as you can get) I’ve just begun the book so I can’t say too much right now, but I will post a review once I’ve finished it. What I can say is that it looks quite good: a poetic and prayerful approach to spirituality grounded in the blessings of the natural world, suitable for Christians to incorporate in our overall spiritual practice. Valter Paintner is a Benedictine oblate whose website is called Abbey of the Arts: Transformative Living through Contemplative & Expressive Arts.
Meanwhile, both of the Atlanta-area Christians who requested my presence at Equinox rituals this weekend are contemplatives as well. Am I noticing a groundswell of emerging interest in the convergence between contemplative Christianity and a healthy, positive honoring of the good Earth that has been given to us?
I sure hope so.
Alas, I had to decline both opportunities to participate in the Equinox rituals for the most prosaic of reasons: I work this weekend. But I’m pleased that I was honored with the invitations. To all of you who read this, whether you are Neopagans — or Christians with a deep and abiding interest in honoring the blessings of the Earth — I wish you a joyous day in celebration of the coming of Spring.
Introverts in the Church
Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Way In An Extroverted Culture
By Adam S. McHugh
Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2009
Review by Carl McColman
Why wasn’t this book published thirty-some years ago? Reading it now, even at the hoary old age of 49, has been a journey of healing, recognition, and validation. At the risk of hyperbole, this one book has given me tools to rethink numerous passages in my troubled relationship with institutional religion. If I had access to the wisdom and insight contained in this book when I was 16 or 17 years old, I can confidently say that my life would have taken a different path — and my experience as a Christian would certainly have included less angst.
Okay, enough about me; let me tell you about this book. Like introverts in general, it seems unassuming and, well, rather quiet in its scope and message. But like all introverts, there’s a lot going on beneath its humble exterior. The premise is simple enough: God creates and loves all of us just as we are, which means that, for introverts, our very introversion is part of “God’s plan.” But in its social and institutional form, religious Christianity tends to privilege and reward extroverted behavior: not explicitly, of course, but in all sorts of ways — from the expectations placed on clergy to be highly engaged people persons, to the centrality of Sunday morning coffee hour to the life of the community. Church is social, and to a great extent, we equate “social” with “extroverted” in our culture.
Presbyterian minister (and unapologetic introvert) Adam S. McHugh wisely never attacks extroversion; on the contrary, his ecclesial vision calls for creative partnership between extroverts and introverts. He simply calls for greater balance and a greater willingness for Christians, both individually and communally, to honor and value the particular gifts that introverts bring to the table. Since introverts are more naturally thoughtful, meditative, slow-paced, and comfortable with silence, the vision that McHugh offers is that of a church where contemplative spirituality is more central than marginal. How I wish that all the Christians who attack contemplative spirituality would read this book.
McHugh considers the role of introverts in the church in general, but pays particular attention to introverted leadership styles (where the emphasis is on mentoring and spiritual direction rather than showy socializing) and — what I think is the best and most important chapter in the book — introverted evangelism, which eschews “selling Christ” for a humbler, quieter emphasis on building relationships and then exploring mystery together. At this point, McHugh’s vision for a holistic, introvert-friendly Christianity is not only deeply contemplative, but even touches on the silent frontier where Christianity embraces the mystical. As someone who has always inhabited the sacramental (rather than evangelical) side of the Christian world, I’ve never had much interest in the “Hi, are you saved?” approach to Christian outreach. But McHugh’s lovely description of evangelism as a gentle, respectful, mutual apprenticeship to the Mystery makes even me excited about the idea of sharing my faith.
Richard Rohr loves to tell the story of how years ago he led a retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani, only to find out that the monks were not particularly fond of Thomas Merton, who had lived at that monastery for over 25 years. When Rohr asked one of the monks why, he received this telling answer. “Merton told us we weren’t contemplatives, we were just introverts!” I’ve heard Rohr tell this story once in person and have heard it on more than one of his CD programs, and it always elicits laughter from his audience. And it’s true that being an introvert is not the same thing as being a contemplative. But perhaps if we learn to value the natural and unique gifts and talents of the introverts in our communities, they will be liberated to become more than “just introverts” — and, likewise, they can help all of Christ’s followers to grow more deeply in the riches and splendor of a truly contemplative approach to spirituality.
That, at any rate, is my hope, and I think Introverts in the Church is a wonderful means to that end. This book is a gift to the entire Body of Christ. If you’re an introvert, “read it and heal,” as John Ortberg says in his endorsement printed on the front of the book. But I think this book isn’t just for introverts. If you’re an extrovert, read it to raise your consciousness a little bit. Maybe you’ll learn to see the quiet folks, who come to every meeting but never say a word, just a little bit differently. And maybe in that new way of seeing, you’ll find a bit of healing yourself.
Quote for the Day
The hound that runs after the hare only because he sees the other hounds running will rest when he is tired, or go home again. But if he runs because he’s seen the hare, he won’t stop, however tired he gets, until he has caught it.
— Walter Hilton, The Stairway of Perfection
The Snakes and the Slaves
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.
As I ponder on this day, I am reminded that it, like Columbus Day, can elicit a radically different response from people, based on their world-view and value system. Columbus Day for Euro-Americans was traditionally a day of celebration and commemoration of “discovery,” but for Native Americans and those who share concern for the plight of indigenous people who face the brunt of colonialist expansion, Columbus Day has become the symbol of loss. As one pundit put it, “Columbus didn’t discover America, he invaded it!”
St. Patrick’s Day, likewise, means different things based on whether a person’s interest in Celtic spirituality tends toward the Pagan or the Christian end of the continuum. For Christians, Patrick brought the new faith — hence, enlightenment — to this “island at the end of the world.” But Neopagans re-interpret Patrick not as a liberator, but as an oppressor. The arrival of Patrick’s mission marked the beginning of the end of the old ways. I remember back in the 1980s, in Nashville at a Wiccan bookstore, the first time I saw a leaflet for Ár nDraíocht Féin: A Druid Fellowship: It said “Bring back the snakes! Ireland was better off Pagan.”
So when Patrick expelled the snakes from Ireland, was this a mythic way of saying he brought about the end of the native, druidic religion? It might be easy to interpret things that way, and I suppose many, both Christian and Pagan, would agree with this way of reading history. But I am not so sure. I think indigenous Irish spirituality did not so much vanish under Christianity as adapt and evolve. The old gods and goddesses may have retreated undergone and became the fairies of myth and lore, but many practices associated with them — from the veneration of holy wells to the Imbolc ceremonies Christianised under devotion to St. Brigid — have lived on, into the present day. Indeed, when I participated in a Brigid’s Eve Ritual in Co. Kildare in 2005, I quickly lost any sense of orientation as to whether what I was doing was primarily Catholic or Pagan in its focus.
Purists on both side of the Christian/Pagan divide will not like this very much, but I think this is the glory of Irish spirituality — and the true legacy of Patrick. Neither Pagans nor Christians are going to go away, so we can choose to hate each other — or we can decide to live together peacefully, and perhaps even joyfully. I opt for the latter. And I think the folk traditions of the Celtic lands are some of the best tools we have for learning how to be good neighbors with one another.
One other thought about St. Patrick. He first came to Ireland not as a missionary, but as a slave — and escaped several years later as a runaway. Much of the drama of his story came from his sense that he needed to return to the land of his own captivity as a spiritual emissary. Part of his legacy as the apostle to the Irish was his work against human trafficking. Now, there’s nothing within Celtic paganism that mandates the owning of slaves, and likewise we know that many Christians over the centuries have been slave owners, so it is a mistake to assume that because Pagan Ireland was a slave state, and the coming of Christianity brought also the fight against slavery, that this makes Christianity automatically morally superior to Paganism. That argument just doesn’t hold water. But what is worth considering is this: perhaps the “snakes” that Patrick expelled were not the Druids, but the slave traders and slave owners. By bringing an ethic of human dignity and respect to Ireland, Patrick brought a character that the best expressions of both Paganism and Christianity can celebrate.
Perhaps Pagans will always lament the coming of Patrick, and Christians will always celebrate it. In some ways, we will simply always be different. But if we can both agree that slavery is a bad thing and that freedom is good, perhaps we can see in this a call to freedom of religion, and the possibility of true interfaith spirituality and peaceful co-existence that will liberate us to work together for the common good. After all, human trafficking is still with us, and other problems (like the environmental crisis) exist where Neopagans and Christians can work together to achieve a common goal. In this way, everyone wins. Except for the snakes.
Palm Sunday Concert at the Monastery, featuring Thomas Tallis
If you live in or near metro Atlanta, you won’t find a more aesthetically and spiritually uplifting way to begin Holy Week than this special event at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. I’m excited about the inclusion of Tallis’ Lamentations, but the entire program should be splendid.
Monastery of the Holy Spirit
presents
A Concert of Sacred Classical Music
A Lenten Meditation for Passion Sunday
March 28, 2010 at 4:00 pm
featuring
The University of Georgia
Collegium Musicum &
Chamber Orchestra
Dr. Mitos Andaya, Conductor
Lamentations of Jeremiah I and II
Thomas Tallis (c. 1505-1585)
Seven Last Words from the Cross
James MacMillan (b. 1959)
The Lamentations of Jeremiah are deeply emotional, polyphonic settings that are consider to be very personal compositions of Thomas Tallis. Tallis was Catholic, but as he served in the employ of four monarchs (Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary and Elizabeth I) he also composed works for the Anglican ritual. The Hebrew letters are set beautifully, the stanzas of the lessons are expressively. Both settings conclude with the exclamation, “Jerusalem convertere ad Dominum Deum tuum” a plea to Jerusalem to turn to the Lord.
Seven Last Words from the Cross is Scottish composer, James MacMillan’s first major choral masterpiece. Composed for mixed voices and strings, the words are set uniquely and most powerfully. MacMillan draws upon complementary texts including the Palm Sunday Exclamation, Good Friday Responses, as well as Catholic ceremony and plainchant and combines a variety of compositional styles to provide the opportunity for reflection and meditation, and yet communicate directly to the heart of the listener.
The Concert also includes some short instrumental pieces.
Free general admission • Doors open at 3:30pm • Free-Will offering is accepted
The Abbey Store will be open before the concert
Click here for Directions
Monastery of the Holy Spirit • 2625 Hwy 212 SW • Conyers, GA
Info • 678-964-2237 • www.trappist.net
Go Ask Alice
We saw Alice in Wonderland Saturday evening. It’s getting lukewarm reviews and that’s pretty much how I feel about it. Of course, it was visually rich, and even without the obligatory presence of Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter, it had Tim Burton’s fingerprints all over it. It kind of felt like last year’s Star Trek reboot — a chance to see familiar characters interpreted in interesting new ways. Unfortunately, where Alice fails is in the story. Other critics have complained that it feels too “Hollywood,” with caricatures rather than characters and the story galloping along to the inevitable Big Fight™ at the end of the film. Well, they’re right, and so I won’t beat on that particular dead horse. Rather, I want to look at the more interesting-from-a-Celtic-mythology question of how we relate to otherworlds and underworlds. After all, Wonderland is such an archetype of the mythic otherworld that “Going down the rabbit hole” has entered our cultural lexicon — think of The Matrix.
Wonderland gets renamed “Underland” in this movie, and actually the characters tell Alice that she got it wrong the first time — the name has been Underland all along. And, yes, this isn’t Alice’s first fall down the rabbit-hole, a crucial plot element that is hinted at throughout the narrative but only made clear well into the film. This is not little-girl-Alice, but Alice-on-the-verge-of-womanhood, dealing with an unwanted suitor and a controlling mother; and while she seems unable to manage the various claims that other people place on her in “real” life, once she lands in Underland, Alice asserts herself. Convinced that Underland is merely a kaleidoscope within her own subconscious, whenever the Caterpillar or the Hatter or any of the other characters express an expectation of her, she confidently replies, “This is my dream, I make my own path” or something to that effect. In this sense, Alice seems to be bringing to her otherworldly journey the same modernist/rationalist assumption that shapes the greatest of all alternate-reality movies: The Wizard of Oz, in which Dorothy wakes up at the very end to discover her entire adventure in the land of Technicolor was “only a dream.”
But Tim Burton’s Alice ultimately cannot take refuge in such a reductionist approach; when she finally realizes that she really has been to Underland before, she likewise realizes that this mythic land has a reality that exists independently of the machinations of her dreaming mind. This adds a bit of gravitas to her impending battle with the Jabberwocky: if the dragon she needs to slay is more than just a demon conjured out of her own shadow, then perhaps it will not so easily be vanquished. But this is Hollywood, after all, and the movie ends up pulling its punches as the story resolves itself in utter, banal predictability — down to Alice rejecting her suitor and becoming a poster-girl for Victorian-era Grrl Power once she climbs back out of the rabbit hole.
So I really like the fact that Burton and screenwriter Linda Wolverton mess with the “it’s-only-a-dream” convention. But in the end, that was the only really cool thing about this film. Otherwise it was just too neat and formulaic to really matter. I think it would have been a more dangerous and interesting story (but probably less marketable to today’s Cineplex world) if the same theme had been thrown at little-girl-Alice rather than young-adult-Alice. As wonderful as Mia Wasikowska was in the title role, imagine if the part had been given to Elle Fanning (alas, even Abigail Breslin and Elle’s sister Dakota are getting too old for this) — and imagine if the Red Queen had been truly scary, instead of Bonham-Carter’s petulant, over-the-top performance (like I said, this movie deals in caricatures). After all, as Celtic myth reminds us: when the dream is real, so is the nightmare.
The podcast of unknowing
I have recently bought some new gadgets, including a Blue Snowball Microphone and an iPhone. There were many reasons why I got the iPhone, but one of the main features I wanted was the ease by which one can create decent MP3 recordings using, well, just the iPhone. As for the Snowball, it is one of the leading podcast mikes.
Yes, I’m thinking about adding audio content to this website. I don’t think I’m talking about a full-fledged podcast; I don’t see myself creating regular regular recordings on a weekly or monthly basis or whatever. No, what I’m more interested in doing is creating a series of contemplative-themed recordings, either focusing on selected topics (introductions to the various great mystics, overviews of specific spiritual practices, etc.) or on conversations with people who are engaged in the practice of contemplative spirituality. Like all podcasts, these recordings would be available through this website for you to download to your own computer or MP3 player.
The biggest issue right now is A) finding the time to make the recordings, and B) figuring out what I’m going to say. So, my dear readers, what would you like to see in a contemplative-themed podcast? Are there particular people you’d like to hear me interview (no promises here, but I could try to set up some interesting conversations)? Particular mystics or writings you’d like to hear my take on? Topics or questions or controversial viewpoints that you think would be particularly well-suited for audio?
Please let me know. Oh, and if you think that this is a silly idea and you’ll never bother to listen to any MP3s I post here, let me know that, too. After all, no point in throwing the party if no one will come.
P.S. Here is a recording I did for a local radio station a few years back on world mysticism to help promote a class I teach at the Emory Center for Lifelong Learning:
The troll and the coward
Somebody called me a coward yesterday.
It was a guy who had become a Facebook friend of mine. We’ll just call him “M.” I didn’t know him, but we had a few mutual friends and so when M. requested that we be friends, I accepted.
We didn’t have any interaction until yesterday, when I posted the following status update on my Facebook page:
Matthew 25:31-46: the Christian mandate for social justice.
I’ll freely admit: this was a response to Glenn Beck’s telling his listeners that they should avoid any church that promotes social justice. I simply wanted to point out that social justice has a firm scriptural foundation.
Well, talk about opening a can of worms!
M. promptly posted a bizarre comment about the difference between charity and “officials who take from one at the point of a gun, to give to another.” I should have realized right then what I was dealing with. But, alas, I didn’t.
Another of my friends (somebody who I actually do know, whom I’ve really met in person) suggested that M. should tone down his hyperbole. Thus began a series of back and forth comments. It soon became obvious that M. wasn’t really interested in open-ended debate or conversation, but just wanted to push his own ideologically-driven viewpoint. Furthermore, he wasn’t at all interested in the passage from Matthew 25, even though at one point I made this direct statement: “M., any further comments here that are not directly related to Matthew 25:31-46, which is the point behind this thread, will be deleted.” He ignored me, and began to draw connections between social justice, socialism, and Marxism.
When he went so far as to call my other friend a Marxist, I deleted his post. And that’s when he sent me the following message:
Carl, Like all Marxist elitists, Christian or otherwise, you are a coward, and very generous with other peoples’ money.
I resisted the urge to send him a brief, two word response that rhymes with “yuck poo.” Instead, I simply banned him from my Facebook page.
This is not the first time I’ve dealt with someone whose behavior corresponds with the actions of an internet troll. But it is the first time I’ve dealt with trollish behavior on Facebook. I’m annoyed with myself that I engaged with M. for as long as I did. It was a waste of my time and my energy. I don’t think this is about politics; I have plenty of conservative and ultra-conservative friends (on Facebook and in real life!) and while I don’t share their views, I’m willing to give them airspace on my blog — or my Facebook page. All I ask is some basic respect and a willingness to recognize that others hold different views.
But there’s no respect in calling someone a Marxist just because they dare to disagree with your conservative politics. Or calling me a coward because I deleted such a name-calling comment. Nor, frankly, is there respect in the use of “bait” — i.e., deliberately provocative statements like “Social Justice is simply another name for Marxism” or “officials who take from one at the point of a gun.” Too late, I realized what was going on here. This guy behaved like a troll, and had been baiting us all along, and more than one of us took the bait.
I’m annoyed at myself because I took the bait. We all get triggered sometimes, and it happened to me yesterday. I think I took the bait, in part, because it happened on Facebook. I should have known better: I have many “Facebook friends” whom I don’t know at all; they’re friends of friends, or they want to be my friend because they’ve read my books, or whatever. But up until now, the conversation on my Facebook page has always been congenial — friendly. Sigh. It’s like a little bit of a loss of innocence.
It occurs to me that some folks (especially M. himself) might accuse me of being just another name-caller since I’m using the pejorative label “troll” in regard to M. This is why I’m trying to choose my words carefully, and only suggest that his behavior seems trollish. Furthermore, that’s why I’m calling this post “the troll and the coward.” If he wants to call me a coward, so be it. Maybe I’m doing a little bit of “eye for an eye” here, but I think at least I have some evidence to back up my words. As best I can tell, it is only by the logic of a troll that my actions appear cowardly, and it is only by such trollish thinking that my friend gets labeled a “Marxist.”
Considering all this from a spiritual perspective, I’m reminded that everything is grist for the contemplative mill: even dealing with behavior that is associated with internet trolls! It is a mindfulness exercise to learn not to be triggered by the inflammatory “bait.” It is a contemplative practice to stay mindful enough to see this kind of thing for what it is, right away. Mindfulness practice means learning to be fair, compassionate, but firm — and finding the spaciousness within to prevent the “yuck poo’s” from arising when trollish behavior is aimed directly at me.
Clearly I have a long way to go. I don’t believe being a contemplative means having no boundaries. Rather, I believe a true contemplative can set and enforce boundaries, when needed, mindfully rather than reactively, at least most of the time. None of us are perfect, and so we all will have times when we get triggered: when we are reactive rather than mindful, in response to someone else’s “stuff.” The trick then is learning to respond to our own stuff mindfully rather than judgmentally!
Jonathan Edwards, Spokesperson for Lectio?
Like many Americans, I know Jonathan Edwards primarily through his “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” sermon, in which he compares our Creator to a psychopath holding a spider above a flame, just itching to drop the hapless creature to its fiery death. Needless to say, I figured that Edwards was probably as screwed up as the deity of whom he preached. So I was quite surprised when a spiritual director of mine back in my Episcopalian days suggested that Edwards was the great American mystic. “Read his Religious Affections,” he counseled me. I must confess I never did (although I do own a copy and hope to get to it someday). But now that I’m reading Fremantle’s anthology of Protestant Mystics, I’m impressed by the excerpts from Edwards’ autobiography included in that anthology. Clearly, when he wasn’t preaching scary sermons, Jonathan Edwards had a rich and joyful sense of Divine Intimacy in his life. He also seemed to be familiar with lectio divina, if not explicitly, then at least through his own discovery by engaging with scripture. Consider this tidbit, from the winter of his nineteenth year:
I had then, and at other times, the greatest delight in the holy scriptures, of any book whatsoever. Oftentimes in reading it, every word seemed to touch my heart. I felt a harmony between something in my heart, and those sweet and powerful words. I seemed often to see so much light exhibited by every sentence, and such a refreshing ravishing food communicated, that I could not get along in reading. Used oftentimes to dwell long on one sentence, to see the wonders contained in it; and yet almost every sentence seemed to be full of wonders.
Would that we all could find so much illumination in the encounter with the sacred text of our tradition!
A Contemplative Curriculum?
I’ve written in this blog several times recently about what a contemplative practice group might look like, and hopefully I’ll be involved in setting up at least one such group in the near future. But in a conversation with a clergy friend last night, he asked me what it would look like to have a fully-formed curriculum of classes, workshops, retreats, etc., all designed to support individuals and communities in the quest to grow toward deeper intimacy and union with Christ?
Wow. What a sweet idea to ponder.
A few thoughts here. I really believe that such a curriculum needs to be embedded in some form of Christian community, which probably means a church. I know a lot of people are allergic to church, and for that reason alone I believe in a “generous ecclesiology” (with apologies to Brian McLaren). In other words, I don’t hold to any idea that we “must” be involved in a traditional parish, or a particular denomination, or that membership in a church requires Sunday worship plus committee meetings, etc. etc. For some people, a house church or a monastic oblate community or some other non-traditional community may be far more healthy and helpful than a conventional brick-and-mortar congregation.
Having said that, I do believe community in some form is essential for contemplative practice — even the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and the Carthusians in our day, had/have some form of community support — and so I think contemplative training can only occur in a community setting.
Now, I suspect that most conventional churches probably do not have enough people in them to make a contemplative educational program fly. Why? First of all, because at least in the present, contemplation appeals to such a small percentage of Christians (most of whom don’t even know it exists), that most small to medium-sized churches simply don’t have the population base to support such a program. Meanwhile, because larger (“mega”) churches tend to be so extraverted in their character and make-up, introverts (who often are those most readily drawn to contemplation) tend to feel marginalized in large churches, and either drop out or just hang out on the edges. So even a big church might not have the base to get a contemplation program up and running.
So, a paradox: while teaching contemplation needs to be embedded in a Christian community, it will also need to be open/ecumenical/welcoming enough to include participants from other communities. So it will also have an ecumenical or “para-church” quality to it.
Okay, but what will such a program actually look like?
Just a few random thoughts:
- Classes. Most people would probably plug into a contemplative program through taking a class or two, so such offerings need to be ongoing. Obviously, classes on how to meditate, how to practice lectio divina, how to pray the Daily Office or other liturgical forms of prayer, as well as more creative stuff like chanting, body prayer/Christian yoga, art-as-prayer, would all be part of the program. For those so geekily inclined, classes on the writings of the great mystics would be fun. I also think Bible study could be part of the program, although that gets tricky, since Bible study can quickly get lost in left-brain analysis, making it subtly subversive of contemplation. But a form of “contemplative” Bible study that incorporates elements of lectio in its curriculum? That would be cool.
- Weekend or multiple-day events. Quiet days, retreats, workshops, especially featuring visiting speakers and teachers. We all need to interrupt our routine from time to time to create space for the playful guidance of the Holy Spirit to break in and through.
- Service and outreach. I think contemplation and social ministry are as naturally related as the first and second of the two great commandments. Contemplatives might find a particular “type” of social ministry that is particularly congenial to the prayerful life: perhaps environmental clean-up, or visiting a nursing home, or a letter writing campaign on behalf of important issues. And of course, there’s always Habitat for Humanity and working at the local food pantry.
- Spiritual direction. One on one guidance is not necessarily for everybody, but it is an important element in the contemplative tradition and deserves to be part of any kind of contemplative program. This implies that training experienced contemplatives to function as soul friends for others would be an important part of a contemplative curriculum.
- Ongoing group practice. Even if you’ve been meditating daily for twenty years, there is nothing so beneficial as sitting in silence with others who share your hunger for intimacy with God. Classes tend to be, well, wordy and heady, so providing an on-going, regular place where people just gather to be silent together, would be an essential element in an overall contemplative program.
- Intergenerational activities. It is really hard to be a contemplative with small children in the house! So, perhaps, if we can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em — resources exist for teaching meditative practices to children, and so providing programming where children “of all ages” can learn to relish the sweet taste of silence would be a blessing to the entire family.
- Pastoral counseling. I think it’s important to understanding the distinction between spiritual formation, which is geared toward fostering intimacy and union with God, and pastoral counseling, which is more directly therapeutic in nature. But the truth is, the line separating these two arenas of growth is blurry at best. So being able to connect those who need a more structured therapeutic form of support, with care providers who are either contemplatives themselves or at least familiar with the contemplative tradition, would also be an important resource, not needed by everyone, but truly a blessing for those who do require it.
Frankly, I think every major city needs at least one center that could provide this portfolio of services to the larger faith community. I’d love to be involved in setting this up in Atlanta… now all I need is a bit of grant money to get us started! (Anyone have any ideas?)
