St. Andrew and the Scots
Today is the feast day of Saint Andrew, who according to tradition was crucified on a diagonal or X-shaped cross, as depicted on the national Flag of Scotland. In addition to being the patron saint of fisherman (and fishmongers), golfers, rope-makers, singers, and spinsters (!), Andrew is probably best known, at least in America, as the patron of Scotland.
The Saltire, symbol of Andrew's patronage, or of Scottish resistance against English aggression?
But here’s an obvious question: why would Andrew, a Jewish fisherman, brother of Peter, one of the twelve apostles who went on to be martyred in Greece and most certainly never set foot in Scotland, be the patron of that remote Celtic region? It goes back at least to the twelfth century, when legends began to appear claiming that relics of Saint Andrew were brought to Scotland as early as the mid-fourth century, and that the saint’s cross appeared as an omen in the sky to a ninth century Pictish King, Óengus mac Fergusa, promising him victory in a forthcoming battle against an Angle (English) chieftain, Æthelstan (so the Flag of Scotland basically re-creates this vision, with a cloud white saltire cross against a sky-blue background). While we can safely assume that both the relics and the vision are legendary, they tell us some interesting things about Scotland. By the twelfth century, Scotland was already dealing with English aggression, and so used the story of Andrew’s patronage to bolster its claim for sovereignty: Scotland clearly was blessed by God, since it was under the patronage of one of the 12 apostles. Furthermore, such patronage extended even to leading to righteous military victory against those bothersome English. This line of reasoning was used in appeals to the pope to command the English to leave the Scots alone. Pope Boniface did just that in 1299, ordering Edward I out of Scotland and appealing to Andrew to justify this command (to learn more about this interesting bit of Scottish medieval history, read this article on the Saint Andrew Legend from the National Archives of Scotland).
At the risk of offending all my Scottish friends and relations, I think that what worked in the middle ages isn’t quite as effective today. Scotland’s patron saint doesn’t seem to have quite the same cachet as some of the other national Celtic saints, like David of Wales or Patrick or Brigid of Ireland. Because he was chosen as the national patron for civic, rather than just religious, reasons, Andrew doesn’t seem to symbolize the degree of spiritual wisdom that characterizes the importance of Celtic Christianity for our day. Granted, November 30 is a great day for Scotsman to don their kilts and pull out the pipes and try to blast out the eardrums of any Englishman standing nearby. Far be it from me to knock this. I just wish that Scotland had historically looked toward one or two of its own for its patronage in the high courts of heaven. Ninian (the apostle to the southern picts), Columcille (who founded Iona, and who actually is the third of Ireland’s three patrons), Kentigern (Mung0), the founder of Glasgow, or even Margaret (although Hungarian by birth, became a Queen of Scotland), all would, it seems to me, be eager to offer their celestial love and support to the sons and daughters of Caledonia. If Ireland can have three patrons, surely Scotland deserves the same, and I nominate Ninian and Margaret as the co-patrons of my ancestral home. They may not have hung out with Jesus while on earth, but at least their feet touched Scottish soil and their hearts knew and loved the land and people of Alba.
But we can worry about that some other day. Today is Saint Andrew’s day, so let us honor the Apostle who has become as much a part of Scottish national identity as Patrick is for the Irish. Listen: I can hear the pipes now.
The Tyranny of Labels
Several folks have pointed out to me that my response to critical comments left on this blog lately has, to put it bluntly, lacked humility. I’ve allowed myself to get into a place of defensiveness, and that has colored both my blogging and my commenting. To such an observation, I fear I can only say nolo contendere. At least one person has declared that he will no longer be reading this blog. I’m sorry he feels he needs to go, but I understand why he’s been disappointed here. I’m sorry that my pride and need to justify myself has compromised my ability to write clearly and beautifully about contemplative spirituality and life in Christ. All I can do is apologize, thank everyone who has pointed out to me my failings, and resolve to grow.
This whole sorry matter began when a reader posted a comment to my page on Walter Hilton, contesting whether Hilton deserves to be called a mystic or not. If I had been smart/humble (!), I would have replied by graciously thanking him for his opinion and noting that I agree with William McNamara, who says “The mystic is not a special kind of person; every person is a special kind of mystic” (Earthy Mysticism, p. ix). In other words, is it really worth our time to quibble over who is and isn’t a mystic? In my better moments, I don’t think so. But alas, two weeks ago I wasn’t having one of my “better moments,” and so I wrote a lengthy response/counter-attack to the Hilton comment, and that’s when the fun began. Several comments to that post got me even more defensive, leading to yet another exercise in self-justification. Sigh. Anyone got a mirror to help me scrape all this egg off my face?
So what am I learning: quite a few things. First, not to be so attached to being “right.” To recognize that not everyone is going to agree with my understanding of mysticism, Christian or otherwise (and that’s okay). To keep reminding myself to be not so quick in responding to my critics, particularly if I’m tempted to get onto the self-justification merry-g0-round. To humbly accept that I have a long way to go to becoming truly humble. That there’s no time to lose in beginning that particular journey. And to feel a sense of gratitude that people are engaged enough in this blog to offer criticism and challenge. In business, I’ve long understood that the customers who complain are much more your friends than the ones who just silently go away unhappy. Likewise, on a blog, the readers who leave challenging or critical comments are the ones who can truly help a blogger to grow. So… even when I don’t agree with you all the time (yes, I’m talking about you, Simon!), thank you anyway for going to the trouble of leaving a comment with your views. I mean it.
And one last thing, and that’s where the title of this particular post comes in. I think I’m learning more than ever before just how much labels get us into trouble. Debating whether somebody is or isn’t a mystic, a contemplative, a “true” Christian, an orthodox Catholic, etc. etc. etc. seems to be almost always a waste of time. When we do this, aren’t we just worrying about labels? It saddens me that so many people resort to “in name only” attacks: for example, “Nancy Pelosi is a ‘Catholic in name only;’” “Olympia Snowe is a Republican ‘in name only;’” and so forth. Criticize the person’s positions all you want, but does it really help to criticize what labels they do (or don’t) wear? For me at least, debating about labels can be a form of intellectual laziness, in which instead of doing the hard work of understanding the joyful complexity of any one person’s position, I resort to making a snap judgment by quickly comparing the person to my own particular set of shibboleths in regard to the particular label in question. Yes, I’m guilty of this — I’m not just preaching to the choir, I’m preaching to myself. This lesson is making me question the entire wisdom of labeling a certain group of Christians as “mystics” or “contemplatives.” Does such labeling really help anyone to enter into the splendor of Christian spirituality: or is it just an invitation for further rounds of debate?
Oh, well, I need to get ready for work, so I’ll stop here. Once again, to anyone who reads this blog: I beg your forgiveness for my defensive and prideful writing over the last few weeks. As Kate Bush says, please “Be kind to my mistakes” and pray for me as I try to keep growing in my own faith.
On a pleasant bank beside a river by moonlight…
Image via Wikipedia
Happy birthday, William Blake.
An Angel came to me and said: ‘O pitiable foolish young man! O horrible! O dreadful state! consider the hot burning dungeon thou art preparing for thyself to all eternity, to which thou art going in such career.’
I said: ‘perhaps you will be willing to shew me my eternal lot & we will contemplate together upon it and see whether your lot or mine is most desirable.’
So he took me thro’ a stable & thro’ a church & down into the church vault at the end of which was a mill: thro’ the mill we went, and came to a cave: down the winding cavern we groped our tedious way till a void boundless as a nether sky appear’d beneath us & we held by the roots of trees and hung over this immensity; but I said, ‘if you please we will commit ourselves to this void, and see whether providence is here also, if you will not, I will?’ but he answer’d: ‘do not presume, O young-man, but as we here remain, behold thy lot which will soon appear when the darkness passes away.’
So I remain’d with him, sitting in the twisted root of an oak; he was suspended in a fungus, which hung with the head downward into the deep.
By degrees we beheld the infinite Abyss, fiery as the smoke of a burning city; beneath us at an immense distance, was the sun, black but shining; round it were fiery tracks on which revolv’d vast spiders, crawling after their prey; which flew, or rather swum, in the infinite deep, in the most terrific shapes of animals sprung from corruption; & the air was full of them, & seem’d composed of them: these are Devils, and are called Powers of the air. I now asked my companion which was my eternal lot? he said, ‘between the black & white spiders.’
But now, from between the black & white spiders, a cloud and fire burst and rolled thro’ the deep black’ning all beneath, so that the nether deep grew black as a sea, & rolled with a terrible noise; beneath us was nothing now to be seen but a black tempest, till looking east between the clouds & the waves, we saw a cataract of blood mixed with fire, and not many stones’ throw from us appear’d and sunk again the scaly fold of a monstrous serpent; at last, to the east, distant about three degrees appear’d a fiery crest above the waves; slowly it reared like a ridge of golden rocks, till we discover’d two globes of crimson fire, from which the sea fled away in clouds of smoke; and now we saw, it was the head of Leviathan; his forehead was divided into streaks of green & purple like those on a tyger’s forehead: soon we saw his mouth & red gills hang just above the raging foam tinging the black deep with beams of blood, advancing toward us with all the fury of a spiritual existence.
My friend the Angel climb’d up from his station into the mill; I remain’d alone, & then this appearance was no more, but I found myself sitting on a pleasant bank beside a river by moonlight, hearing a harper who sung to the harp; & his theme was: ‘The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, & breeds reptiles of the mind.’
— William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
Quote for the Day
For prayer is a supernatural activity or nothing at all; and it must primarily be directed to supernatural ends. It too acknowledges the soul’s basic law: it comes from God, belongs to God, is destined for God. It must begin, end, and be enclosed in the atmosphere of adoration; aiming at God for and in Himself. Our ultimate effect as transmitters of the supernal light and love directly depends on this adoring attentiveness.
— Evelyn Underhill, Concerning the Inner Life
Of Atheists and Apophatics…
An interesting article recently appeared in the New York Daily News, by one of the “celebrity atheists,” Daniel Dennett: The Unbelievable Truth: Why America has become a nation of religious know-nothings. In this article, Dennett argues that non-believers — agnostics and atheists — are, generally speaking, more knowledgeable about religion than are those who believe.
I’m not quite ready to accept the triumphalist way in which Dennett interprets his data. He suggests that atheists know more than true believers about religion because faith requires either willful ignorance of religion’s inherent irrationality, or else the adoption of a complex, metaphorical/mythical understanding of theology. I think there’s more to it than that: as he himself says, atheists are more likely to investigate religious claims as part of their process of rejecting them; also, he doesn’t address the question of how personal spiritual or religious experience shapes the beliefs that people adopt. Still, whatever we may think of how Dennett interprets his data, the basic point: that Christians know less about their own faith than those who have rejected the faith — is something worth pondering.
Dennett also goes on to imply that many clergy have embraced the idea that faith is irrational (suprarational), but won’t admit it, either to protect their job or to spare their congregations the pain of wrestling with the difficult truth. I doubt if matters are quite that simple, but I would agree that many people in positions of leadership within the church — both clergy and ordained — often wrestle with finding a way to articulate a faith that has grown beyond the simplicity of “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” I just don’t think such wrestling is evidence that clergy are either frightened or lazy (I think Dennett is being rather mean-spirited in his assessment of clergy). Rather, I think this points to the vastness of the Divine Mystery and the impossibility of truly putting it into words, especially words proclaimed in a 15- or 20-minute homily — which, for many people, is the only religious instruction they receive all week.
With all this in mind, here’s an interesting perspective that comes from Becky Garrison, a fellow author whom I met when I was in Oregon recently. Becky has begun to describe herself as an “Apophatic Anglican,” and this helps to explain what she means by this:
As part of a panel discussion at Journey Imperfect Faith Community, a number of us were asked to explore the faith label we use to classify yourself. I said I was an Apophatic Anglican, which I described as follows:
“The more I continue to enter the cloud of the unknowing, the more I realize just much I cannot know a God that is outside the time/space continuum But something happens when two or three are gathered together in the name of Jesus. And the Anglican part is because I enter into the mysteries through the Anglican ritual. And Anglicanism is one of those traditions, where I can actually leave my brain intact. I don’t have to park my brain at the door when I come in to partake of the mysteries.”I was asked to further describe “apophatic” as the tradition of negative theology by which you define God by what you do not know. (And BTW-and it’s not apathetic but apophatic.
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What does it mean to live out a faith where we live out the teachings of Christ while walking in the cloud of the unknowing?
More than once on this blog I have described my own faith as a sort of Holy Agnosis. I think Becky’s “Apophatic Anglicanism” is cut from a similar cloth. As an alternative to either defiant fundamentalism or cynical secularism, the path of the apophatic, or holy agnostic, rests comfortably in the paradox and mystery surrounding what we religionists hold to be true — even if such “holding” happens in a place beyond certainty.
Dear readers, what do you think? Are you a believer who doesn’t really know much about your own faith? Or someone who has learned what religion really has to say, and walked away from it? I assume the answer to these two questions would be “no” or else you wouldn’t be reading this blog. So… might you be an “Anglican Apophatic” (you can use your own faith tradition if it’s different from Anglicanism) or a “Holy Agnostic”? And what about Becky’s question: what does it mean to live the teachings of Christ in the midst of profound unknowing?
Quote for the Day
If the only prayer you say in your life is ‘Thank you,’ that would be enough.”
— Meister Eckhart
Mysticism and Missing the Point
A reader named William Law (I wonder if he’s related to the author of A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life?) has not been shy about attacking the basic premise of this blog. Here are a few quotes from recent comments of his (all made to one recent post):
The discussion of mysticism and writing about mysticism as an “object” is specious and misses the point.
How words just multiply like rabbits. There comes a point where explaining is too much like a hamster on his wheel. There is real power in silence – that is the ultimate solitude in the dark light of God.
We spend all too much time talking about “mysticism” and “being mystics” in this generation as if it is a prize to capture.
I think the discussion of “Mysticism” probably should have stopped as a category with Evelyn Underhill since it seems that talking about it has taken on a larger importance than simply living.
Getting caught up in the importance of being published as an expert about “it,” instead of simply applying ourselves to the love and service of God is as far from “mysticism” as one can get. I suspect all this talk about mysticism and categories of mysticism (whether Christian, Buddhist, ermetical, conventual, visionary or not) is an insidious form of spiritual materialism that leds us away from the purity of heart God desires for us to discover in Him. In fact, the more one talks about mysticism, the more likely one is to never be a mystic, whatever that is.
Well, there you go, folks. I can now safely rest in the comfort of knowing that I am in all likelihood not a mystic, simply for the fact that I choose to write about mysticism. I’m glad we’ve got that sorted. I guess William McNamara must be wrong (he said “A mystic is not a special kind of person; every person is a special kind of mystic”), since only those who mostly or entirely refrain from talking about mysticism are likely to be in the club.
Okay, I’m being a bit snarky there, and we all know that is one of my flaws. But in defense of the author of the above comments, I do think he’s on to something. As one of my first meditation teachers used to say, “Reading a book on prayer is one of our favorite ways to avoid praying.” And if reading about prayer is such a distraction, heaven only knows how much writing can take us off course.
But the mystical life is not some sort of club that only the worthy get to join. If it were, only Christ and Mary would be in. (more…)
Make-a-Wish 2003
In 2003, following a year of health challenges as Rhiannon experienced bleeding in her esophagus due to her liver disease, she qualified as a Make-a-Wish recipient. Like so many of her peers, she wished for a trip to Disney World. We made our journey to Orlando in November — seven years ago this month.
I thought that our pictures from that trip had all been lost when our house was burglarized (and both our computers stolen) in 2008, but this morning I found a number of images that had been saved to a memory stick. Here are two for you to enjoy. Needless to say, the second image is one of our all-time favorites.
Fran, Rhiannon and Carl, with Mickey "the Sorceror's Apprentice" Mouse
Rubbing noses with "Chef" Mickey Mouse
Thank you for donating thirty books! More to come?
Thirty monasteries and convents have now received, or will soon receive, a free copy of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, thanks to the generous support of the readers of this blog! I truly appreciate everyone who has sent in a gift to assist in purchasing copies of the book (at cost), and mailing them to religious communities throughout the United States (and even as far away as the Czech Republic).
Would you please consider giving a gift of $16 to pay for a book, at wholesale cost, and the packing and shipping costs to have it mailed to an Abbey, Convent, or other religious community here in the United States? (if you’d like to donate to a community outside the US, that’s great, but postage costs would be higher — contact me and we’ll figure it out).
For more details, please visit the Donate a Book to a Monastery page. And thank you!
Quote for the Day
God does not dwell in a heart that’s confined, and a heart is only as big as the love it holds: in the great heart of Poverty God has room to dwell.
— Jacopone da Todi, quoted in
An Anthology of Christian Mysticism
edited by Harvey D. Egan.
A weekend off…
Today I go to the dentist, have a morning meeting with my buddy Phil to talk about ministry at his church, and then will be interviewed by Bob Gregoire at 1:30 PM Eastern time/10:30 AM Pacific time (hope you can tune in!). In the afternoon I hope to work on either the revision for The Aspiring Mystic (which we hope to have published sometime in 2011) or else a proposal for a new book (which, God willing, will be published in 2012 or 2013).
And then after that… nothing.
For the first time in months, I have absolutely nothing planned this weekend. Well, that’s not quite true, as we will go see the new Harry Potter movie tomorrow and of course will go to mass on Sunday. But I have no “work” related commitments this weekend. No class to prepare for; no writing that needs to be done; no editing that’s under a deadline. Not only will I honor the Sabbath (something that, I must confess, I haven’t been very faithful to, since the book came out in July), but I’ll have Saturday for down-time as well. I’m going to hang out with Fran and Rhiannon, and try to do as little as possible.
To assist in this, I’m not going to post in this blog, unless something so stupendously awesome and time-sensitive comes up that I absolutely must write about it. Otherwise, I’m going to let it go (I’ll set up a couple of quotations to post on Saturday and Sunday, just to keep the RSS feed humming. But I won’t be back on seat until the first of the week).
I hope everyone has a lovely weekend!
Quote for the Day
A mystic is simply a man or woman in love with God, and the Church is hungry for such people.
— Catherine De Hueck Doherty,
from the preface to Catherine of Genoa’s
Purgation and Purgatory; The Spiritual Dialogue
Is Christian Mysticism “Special”?
The Stairway of Perfection by Walter Hilton. Was he or wasn't he a "real" mystic?
Yesterday morning I received quite an interesting comment, posted on my webpage about Walter Hilton, from a man who I believe has never commented on this blog or website before. It’s the kind of comment that reveals just how much diversity there can be among people who share a common interest in mysticism — for this person’s idea of what constitutes “real” mysticism differs significantly from my own views. His comments are rather provocative, and hopefully I’m not being too snarky in my response! But he does raise some interesting issues about mystical identity, and the nature of authentic mysticism, including the perennial question of whether mystical experience is, in essence, an elitist or “special” phenomenon. Read on to see both the comment and my response, but read at your own risk, for the snark-factor contained herein is a bit higher than normal for this blog. (more…)
My Parents, circa 1978
My brother Donald took these pictures of my Mom and Dad in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, sometime around 1978 (I was in High School at the time).
Sylvia B. McColman, ca. 1978. Photo by Donald McColman
John D McColman, ca. 1978. Photo by Donald McColman
Interfaith Atlanta
Atlanta at night. Image by Stuck in Customs via Flickr
If you live in or near Metro Atlanta, and are interested in joining the great conversation between persons of different religions, faiths, and/or wisdom traditions, here are a few online resources to get you started:
- ATLANTA INTERFAITH LEADERS FELLOWSHIP — An informal organization for bringing together persons of all faiths who share an interest in interfaith world. The fellowship’s mission is “to provide a gathering place where persons engaged in interfaith work can share ideas and experiences for the purposes of support and inspiration.”
- FAITH ALLIANCE OF METRO ATLANTA — FAMA emerged in response to the tragedy of September 11th, 2001. Its mission is “to promote respect, understanding, prayer, interaction and unity among diverse faiths in the Atlanta region and to advance the influence and voice of the faith community for the common good.” FAMA’s board of directors features members from all major faith traditions. The board plans bi-monthly assemblies for the public to encourage interfaith experiences and awareness.
- WORLD PILGRIMS — Associated with FAMA, World Pilgrims sponsors interfaith pilgrimages for Jews, Christians, Muslims and adherents to other faiths, who travel together to a land with religious significance for each faith. According to the World Pilgrims website, “By sharing the sacred journey, true dialogue and learning take place. The participants deepen their personal faith by visiting some of the most sacred sites of their religious tradition; gain an appreciation of the shared elements of the three religious traditions, as well as an understanding and respect for the differences; and establish personal friendships with pilgrims from all three faith traditions, even in the midst of the complexities of the contemporary Middle East.”
There’s much more, including an interfaith Habitat for Humanity team, interfaith storytelling circles, an interfaith immersion experience (in which participants visit houses of worship or study connected with five faith traditions) and more. Visit Ben Campbell Johnson’s Website to learn more (Ben is an “elder statesman” of the Atlanta Interfaith Community, and is one of my heroes).
Autumn in Atlanta
Okay, so our trees don’t get quite as bold in their colors as you’ll find in Minnesota or Vermont… but the hardwoods in Georgia still know how to put on a show, and the last few days have been particularly lovely here in Atlanta. Yesterday morning as I was heading out to speak at a Sunday School class, I noticed that the Japanese Maple in our front yard is just about at its peak, so I took this snapshot. Enjoy.
Carl and Fran McColman's Japanese Maple, November 14, 2010.
Letting Go
Is this what your house looks like? Image by pteittinen via Flickr
I have a friend who is a hoarder. He owns somewhere in the vicinity of 25,000 books, along with numerous DVDs and videos. He’s in his seventies, so this represents a lifetime of collecting. His house is jammed full of the things, along with a large storage shed in his back yard, not to mention two off-site storage units. His wife is furious, and he is slowly coming to the painful realization that a lifelong dream of his — that he could merrily collect books and spend his retirement years reading them — is nothing more than the most ghostly of fantasies. He’s retired now, and he’s too overwhelmed to read any of his books (most of them he has no idea where they are). At this point, never mind reading them; he’ll be doing well just to sort through them.
His wife is demanding that he winnow his collection by 95%. That will still leave him over a thousand books — which means, if he reads two books a week, he’d still have a decade’s worth of reading material.
I’ve offered to help him. This is dangerous stuff, because I have a bit of the hoarder in me. (more…)
Is Facebook Evil?
Facebook corporate headquarters. Image via Wikipedia
Still pondering the many wonderful comments to appear on this blog over the past two days, mostly in response to my post Of Death, Dementia, and Dear Old Friends. In that post I talk about using Facebook to (re)connect with old acquaintances and friends. Predictably, comments seemed to be about evenly divided between those who agreed with me about Facebook’s usefulness, and those who decried it as an ersatz form of relating. One comment in particular really caught my eye:
i used to look at facebook about the same way you do…as a way to casually communicate with people that i didn’t have a really strong friendship with. it was a good thing, or so i thought. sadly, facebook addictions tore through my family and we quickly learned that losing touch with those who arent dear to you is sometimes for the better. i now regard facebook as one of the great evils of the world.
The writer of this comment went on to apologize for the lack of capitalization, as he was using a cellphone!
Hmmm. “One of the great evils of the world” is a pretty strong declaration. I’m not surprised that some people might develop a compulsive or addictive relationship to Facebook — that’s easy to do with the Internet as a whole. But to me, that puts Facebook (and, by extension, social media in general) on a par with alcohol, gambling, television, and chocolate: clearly rather dangerous to those who are susceptible to abusive attachments, and generally speaking not worth the risk because the potential benefits are so slight. But I’m not sure such things need to be dismissed as “evil.”
Still, someone who has watched a loved one descend into the dark labyrinth of addiction might not be as forgiving as I am. What seems to be really at issue here is a basic question: what concerns should we have about the ways in which online relationships interfere with, or even replace, face-to-face contact? Is relating to others via the alienating hiss of cyberspace rather like kudzu, the invasive vine that has ravaged the American south and choked out so many native plants?
I’m an introvert by nature (and yes, people who know me casually may have a hard time seeing that, because I’m often quite gregarious in public, especially when I’m teaching, speaking, or working at the Abbey Store. But like a true introvert, I find such social times to be psychically draining rather than energizing, and I usually need plenty of rest in response to such times, enjoyable though they may be). What’s ironic is that, before social media, I generally had less friends and interpersonal contact than I do now. Of course, much of my interaction with people these days is driven by the fact that I’m a blogger and an author. But one of the reasons why I got on Facebook to begin with, was to share my writing with friends old and new. The Big Book of Christian Mysticism is selling much more quickly than any previous book I’ve written. I’m sure part of that is because there’s a larger market for Christian mysticism than for Celtic or pagan spirituality — but I think part of the new book’s initial success is no doubt due to my online presence: chiefly this blog, but also the various social media sites where I have a page. So, for me, ironically, being immersed in Facebook-land leads to greater, rather than lesser, face-to-face time.
But not everyone brings to Facebook a body of creative work that might lead to new opportunities to meet folks. So I can certainly see where it could be a tool for isolation rather than expansion. I suppose at the end of the day Facebook really is like television or alcohol: we cannot make a sweeping statement about its intrinsic worth, but must always consider whether each individual’s usage of it is healthy or harmful.
Freshly (Im)Pressed, or, the Challenge of Writing
First of all, a big shout out and “thank you” to the good folks of WordPress.com who chose my post from yesterday, Of Death, Dementia and Dear Old Friends, to be featured on their “Freshly Pressed” page. This is the first time a post from this blog made it onto that site (where they daily feature about 11 selections from over a half million daily WordPress blog posts), and my site’s traffic tripled! So “hello” to everyone who is just now discovering my little blog thanks for “Freshly Pressed.” I hope you’ll drop in and and say hello from time to time.
One of the nice things about getting so much extra attention is that I received lots of comments on the post. Yesterday’s post was about my decision to write a letter to an old friend who I thought had died, but learned this week is alive, although suffering from dementia. I specifically said in my post, “I’m going to write her a letter.” But a significant number of the comments left on the post ran along these lines:
- “i suggest no matter what, write it.”
- “Definitely write the letter.”
- “Write the letter. Now.”
- “What does it cost you? Get in touch.”
- “I say write the letter, you won’t regret it!”
- “Write the letter to her; it sounds like you both need it.”
- “I vote for you to write the letter.”
I appreciate all these words of support and encouragement, but what blows my mind is that I wasn’t thinking about writing the letter, I actually wrote a letter. After I received two or three of these “Go ahead and do it already!” comments, I left a comment to that effect:
It’s interesting, but people seem to be under the impression that I was only thinking about writing the letter. But, no, as I said in the post, “I’m going to write…” and, in fact, I just mailed the letter about half an hour ago.
But even after posting that comment, still a number of my respondents left comments implying that I still needed to be persuaded to do this thing (to their credit, plenty of other folks left comments that basically said, “Glad to hear you wrote the letter”).
I’m reminded yet again of how fragile our communication process really is. If something as simply as saying “I intend to write a letter” can be so easily misconstrued as “I might write a letter,” is it any wonder that we have such a screamingly difficult time connecting with one another? How often, despite our best intentions, do we fail to communicate what we’re really trying to say, either because we can’t quite articulate our message artfully enough, or the folks on the receiving end are not fully paying attention, or simply misunderstand us, no matter how direct or eloquent our words might be?
Please understand, I’m not trying to criticize anyone who left a comment yesterday. I’m not angry or unhappy at anyone who left comments; the fact that so many of them misunderstood me is, to me, a sign that either I have a lot of learning to do concerning the art of clear and effective communication, or else all of us human beings need to acknowledge just how easy it is to get things wrong when we speak, write, read, or listen. And what that means is that it would be a good thing if we all tried to slow down when we communicate, and cut each other a little slack when we’re not quite making the connection we want to make. Being gentle and forgiving with one another is a good thing, don’t you think? Especially when we keep in mind just how easy it is for communication to breakdown, for no other reason than that’s what sometimes happens.
Of Death, Dementia, and Dear Old Friends
How we find our old friends. Image via Wikipedia
I learned yesterday that an old friend of mine — someone I haven’t seen since the late 1980s, and haven’t even spoken with since 1997 — is alive but in advanced dementia. I had lost touch with her, and someone had told me, erroneously, a few years back that she had died. I’m happy to learn that my friend lives, even if under the cruel sentence of the loss of memory and reason. I’m going to write her a letter and basically introduce myself to her and say that her friendship meant a lot to me. Even if it doesn’t affect her, perhaps it will please her daughter, with whom she now lives.
It’s been a recurring theme in this blog that I’m not very good at staying in touch with old friends. Then somebody dies, and I feel perhaps an even more acute sense of loss, magnified by my loss of contact with that person. At this point in my life, I have quite a catalog of old friends with whom I’ve lost touch. Facebook has put me back in touch with literally scores of such people, ranging from classmates in kindergarten to old girlfriends (!) from college, to work associates from only a decade ago. It’s nice to have these folks as Facebook friends; I can check in with them from time to time, and they do the same, which is probably about all our matured friendship requires. But that’s so much better than getting word about the passing of yet another person with whom I haven’t communicated in years.
I suppose some people might read this and say “well, get in touch with all your old friends that you’ve lost contact with, already!” But is that such an easy task to accomplish? If someone is not readily visible online, tracking them down the old-fashioned way might take a considerable investment of time. For a formerly close friendship that was unhappily lost and for which I would gladly move a mountain, that would make sense. But the kinds of friends that I’m talking about here are those what were of a more casual nature, people I got to know and whose company I enjoyed, but who were never true intimates of mine (well, except for maybe some of those old girlfriends, but we won’t go there). At the risk of sounding cold, it seems that triage applies even to the algorithm of maintaining relationships over time and space. Some, it seems, are simply best left behind (or, consigned to the infrequent contact of social media).
I believe so much in living in the present, and especially with my daughter and my father both living into (and dying from) their own serious illnesses, it seems like the present is all I have time for. But the shadow side of that is the ghostly claim of the past, a ghost that rattles its chain whenever someone else crosses the threshold separating time from eternity. For the most part, I have no regrets about my life: whenever I get into a funky space (usually about education, like “I should have gone to seminary” or “I wish I earned a doctorate”), I quickly remind myself that as happy as I am now, how can I be sure that changing even one detail of my past would have made for a better life? It’s just as likely that the road not taken could have led to disaster. So I appreciate the present, and leave it at that. But I wish more of my old friends were on Facebook. That might make for less moments of sadness when I learn of yet another loss.
NarniaWeb and the Dawn Treader Movie
The two most important characters on the voyage: Eustace, during his time as a dragon, with Reepicheep the fearless mouse
A lucky writer from NarniaWeb.com got to attend an advance screening of the movie adaptation of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. You can read the review by clicking here. It’s very general, pretty much spoiler-free, but it will whet your appetite for what promises to be a very beautiful and lovely movie. If you are a Narnia or especially a Dawn Treader fan like I am, this review will rev up your anticipation.
Here’s a tasty tidbit:
The final scenes of the film, especially Aslan’s country, are unbelievably good. The parting scene on the beach at Aslan’s Country was very moving. I spoke with one of Walden’s staffers after the show and he said that watching the audience during the final scene was amazing because everyone was wiping away tears as Reepicheep bids farewell. The visuals and dialogue on the beach of Aslan’s Country are some of the most beautiful and moving I’ve ever seen and a perfect emotional climax to the film.
I’m so excited I can hardly stand it! (and remember, the week the movie comes out will also see the release of my new book about the spirituality of the Dawn Treader voyage! Pre-order your copy by clicking here).
At the Very End of the World...
A Few Deep Breaths
I spoke with a friend of mine the other night, who does marketing consulting for publishers. We talked about my writing. Now that The Lion, the Mouse and the Dawn Treader has gone to press, my next project is to work on the new edition of The Aspiring Mystic which will hopefully be released in time for the Wild Goose Festival.
But then what?
Spiritual writing for me is a calling, not a career or even a livelihood. Yes, I want my books to be successful, but at the risk of sounding clichéd, “it’s not about the money.” But one of the challenges of a writing career is that publishers and agents — and yes, I myself — are always wondering, “What’s next?”
I wonder if after I finish the revision of Aspiring if I should just take a year off from writing. Or just concentrate on this blog, adding more content not only to the daily feed but to the mysticism and Celtic spirituality pages. Or finally get serious about creating content for Youtube, or maybe even a podcast.
I suppose I’ll know when the time comes. This time last year I had no idea that I would be writing a book about The Voyage of the Dawn Treader — and now here it is, due to be released in just a few weeks (yes, I wrote it quickly, but it is a short little book). But still, there’s always the question — what do I want to write about?
I’m interested in the topic of holiness. Holiness is so central to mysticism, and yet it’s a concept that has fallen out of favor in our day, even among many Christians. I mentioned this to my friend. He seemed unimpressed.
“Well, it might sell into the charismatic community,” he said, clearly looking for something positive to say about it.
“I know, I know, it has no market value whatsoever,” I said. “Which is a large part of why I’m interested in it. I want to explore why it has become such a radioactive topic, why no one thinks a book on holiness will sell to anyone except for hardcore Christians, who often are not so much looking for holiness as for justification for their own perspective.”
We talked about how such a book could be marketed. Perhaps another word, instead of holiness? Perhaps something whimsical, like “Holiness on the Edge” or “Extreme Christianity” or some such notion? We bounced ideas around for a few minutes, but neither of us found anything that really had a “wow” factor. Eventually somebody changed the subject of the conversation, and holiness was left behind.
What do I write about next? It’s tempting to ask such a question in a rather angsty way, as if my entire value as a writer hinges on the next book. Then I take a few deep breaths and try to be faithful right here and right now. I don’t have to have the next book figured out. I don’t have to come up with a marketing plan, or a proposal, or a target demographic. At least, not yet. Six months from now, when I’m done with the revision of The Aspiring Mystic, hopefully the next step will be clear. After all, we who seek to live in the cloud of unknowing need to get used to the idea that we will only be able to see one step at a time.
Quote for the Day
Monotheism believes that in the end all shall be well and all riddles will be solved. For this we need that patience or tolerance which will save our lives. Agnosticism lacks such endurance and is concerned with our concrete situation without eschatological promises (hallucinations or mirages). God may know all, but we are not God and certainly do not know all, not even in the most elementary things. We have to confess ourselves a-gnostics because we do not have the divine gnosis, the knowledge of things that really matter. The reference here, of course, is monotheism. No doubt we know many things, but we do not know anything exhaustively, as God is supposed to know. Therefore, we have to confess ourselves agnostics, if we may adopt this name of recent coinage.
— Raimon Panikkar, The Rhythm of Being
Quote for the Day
— Gregory of Nyssa,
Commentary on the Song of Songs,
quoted in An Anthology of Christian Mysticism
edited by Harvey D. Egan.
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November 20, 2010 | Categories: Christian mysticism, Mysticism, Mystics, Quotations | Tags: Christian mysticism, Commentary on the Song of Songs, darkness, Gregory of Nyssa, Light, Mysticism, Quotations, Quote for the Day | 2 Comments »