Writing the Icon of the Heart
Writing the Icon of the Heart: In Silence Beholding
By Maggie Ross
Abingdon, UK: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2011
Almost twenty years ago I read Maggie Ross’s wonderful book on the theology of priesthood, Pillars of Flame: Power, Priesthood and Spiritual Maturity. Not only was it a valuable book in helping me to affirm my ministry as a lay Christian, but it also struck me as one of the most lyrical and eloquent statements of Christian spirituality in general that I had ever read. Yes, that is high praise. But the book deserved it. Ross, an Anglican solitary, clearly understood how tainted Christian theology had become by imperial, Greco-Roman, concepts of God-as-controlling-political-authority — and how such a domineering image of God had corrupted not only Christian spirituality in general, but particularly Christian thinking about priesthood. Only by regaining an understanding of God-as-kenotic-love, as evidenced by the witness of Christ and the New Testament authors, could we ever hope to re-vision priesthood as the radical servant/ministry that Christ intended it to be.
So when one of the brothers at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit sent me an enthusiastic email insisting that Writing the Icon of the Heart, Ross’s newest offering, was by far one of the most important books on spirituality that he had read in a long time, I took him at his word. And now that I’ve read it, I’m happy to commend it to you as well. (more…)
Two eBay Auctions For Your Consideration…
I’ve been thinning out my library lately, and decided to put a few books up for sale on eBay.
First up is a collection of Nine Vintage Catholic Books, all published by Image books between the 1950s and 1970s:
This lot includes books by Aquinas, Chesterton, Newman, as well as biographies of Damien the Leper, Francis of Assisi, and Bernadette of Lourdes. These vintage books are all in used condition, and the quality varies from almost “like new” to “acceptable,” but all are complete and clean to read. Bidding starts at only $1.00 for the set, plus a flat rate fee of $4 for shipping (my apologies to my friends outside the United States; I’m only set up to ship to an address in the U.S.).
To bid on this lot of vintage Catholic books, click here.
For my second lot, I gathered eight more vintage Image books, but these are all writings of great mystics, including John of the Cross, Ignatius of Loyola, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, and Thomas Merton. Again, these used books vary in condition. To sweeten this deal, I’m also throwing in a signed copy of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, so I’m calling this auction the Christian Mysticism Starter Library. Bidding starts at only $16.00, with a flat rate shipping fee of $4.00 (to US addresses only).
To bid on this lot of Christian Mysticism books, click here.
I hope one or both of these auctions will appeal to you. The mysticism library auction ends this coming Friday, and the vintage Catholic auction ends the following day, on Saturday. Happy bidding!
Soundings in the Christian Mystical Tradition
Soundings in the Christian Mystical Tradition
By Harvey D. Egan
Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2010
Harvey Egan is one of the big names in the academic study of Christian mysticism; he is the editor of one of the best anthologies of Christian mystical writings, and has penned insightful studies into the work of Jesuit mystics like Ignatius of Loyola and Karl Rahner. But this most recent offering of his may be one of the most useful books for anyone wishing to learn more about the great mystics themselves. Like Evelyn Underhill’s Mystics of the Church or John MacQuarrie’s Two Worlds Are Ours, Soundings in the Christian Mystical Tradition functions as a basic history of Christian mysticism, offering a chronological survey from Biblical times to the present day. But what sets this book apart is how almost every chapter is devoted to one particular mystic, offering a biography of the subject, a look at the historical and theological issues that would have been part of his or her cultural milieu, and how the subject’s mystical relationship with Christ arose in response to the realities of the time — and, most significant for us, how the writings and ideas of each particular mystic still speak to us today. In other words, Soundings in the Christian Mystical Tradition functions almost like a dictionary of mystical biography, a “who’s who” in the history of mystics functioning within the Christian tradition. (more…)
Two Big Smiles
Cindy Lou & Rhiannon, 8-20-11
This past Saturday evening Fran and I took Rhiannon to see her favorite musician, Cindy Lou Harrington, in concert at a wonderful little pizza place called Shorty’s in Tucker, GA (unlike most pizzerias, Shorty’s has several vegan options on their menu). Before the show began, Cindy Lou stopped by our table and posed for a picture with her number 1 fan. Gotta love those smiles!
You never would have thought Rhiannon is fighting against both liver and kidney disease if you had been there Saturday evening. She was full of energy, sang along with every song she knew, and smiled the whole evening long. Even though we had her out way past her bedtime, that didn’t slow her down any. Music really is good therapy.
If you are not familiar with Cindy Lou’s music, she’s worth getting to know. You can find one of her albums by clicking here.
Awkward
A reader of my blog has written to me to ask for advice on reading the mystics. He notes, “they embrace very traditional theology that is awkward for me in the 21st century.”
Indeed.
There is no one single “Christian mystical theology.” I would be suspicious of anyone who tries to distill the teachings of all the great mystics into a single summarized statement of “this is what you do in order to become a mystic.” It just doesn’t work that way. For one thing, the mystics stretch across two thousand years of history, and come from many different cultures and locations. Even if we accept the idea that mysticism ushers us into a place where truth is one, eternal, and unchanging, the corridors of human thought and culture that the mystics use to bring us to that place of profound unity are as varied as the mystics themselves.
All this is to say that anyone who reads a variety of the mystics will sooner or later run into one or more of them whose thought and theology comes across as awkward — or worse. (more…)
Quote for the Day
The elder opened the Philokalia, searched for an instruction of Saint Symeon the New Theologian and began: “Sit in silence and alone. Bend your head. Close your eyes. Breathe ever more quietly. With the imagination look inside your heart. Carry your intellect, that is your thought, out of your head and into your heart. As you breathe say quietly with your lips or in your intellect alone: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.’ … Try to drive away your thoughts. Keep restful patience and repeat this process very frequently.”
— Anonymous, The Pilgrim’s Tale
Catholic Teaching on Inter-Religious Dialogue
Image via Wikipedia
The Catechism of the Catholic Church speaks clearly about the need for positive inter-religious encounters. It sees part of the mission of every Christian to include “a respectful dialogue with those who do not … accept the Gospel. Believers can profit from this dialogue by learning to appreciate better ‘those elements of truth and grace which are found among peoples [of other faiths], and which are, as it were, a secret presence of God’” (CCC, #856).
Respectful dialogue and appreciative learning: qualities that, it seems to me, would encourage learning about other faiths, becoming familiar with their teachings and practices, reading their sacred texts, and — most important of all — making the effort to actually get to know adherents of other faiths, not in a “I’m here to convert you” sort of way, which always come across as insincere and manipulative; rather, true inter-religious encounters must be grounded in no agenda beyond “love your neighbor as yourself.” I as a Christian, in encountering persons who are Muslims, or Jews, or Buddhists, or Neopagans, or Hindus (or whatever), need to keep my focus on the person him- or herself — not on their beliefs, or practices, or identity. While it may be interesting and enjoyable to learn about someone’s faith when it is different from my own, ultimately it is even more rewarding to simply get to know them as friends, regardless of our shared or differing religious identities.
It seems so many Christians, Catholic and otherwise, feel that the only point behind becoming friends with people of other faiths is to do a bit of spiritual marketing: to get them to convert. But that way of thinking actually undermines the kind of respectful dialogue and appreciative learning that the Catechism advocates. If somebody or somebodies came up to me and said “I’d like to learn more about being a Catholic,” naturally I would talk to them about my faith. But that’s their initiative, based on whatever calling they feel between themselves and God. If I try to “push” my Catholicism, or my Christianity, on other people, I’m trying to play God. And that’s not something I think any of us are called to do!
So I’ll stick with respectful dialogue, appreciative learning, and genuine, non-manipulative friendships. A statement on “Dialogue and Proclamation” from the Pontifical Council for Inter-Religious Dialogue gives further detail on why Catholics (and, I would argue, other Christians) ought to reach out to those of other faiths. “While keeping their identity intact, Christians must be prepared to learn and to receive from and through others the positive values of their traditions.” I think this is an important point: inter-religious dialogue is not about abandoning your own faith. Indeed, it requires a sense of being grounded in your own faith, in order to more truly appreciate the diversity between the faiths. But it’s not an aggressive grounding that seeks to make everyone else just like me; on the contrary, to be truly grounded in my faith means I find my identity through God, and not through other people, and so I am able to relate to all people, regardless of their identity, with love and kindness and compassion and respect.
Finally, the Pontifical Council notes “Christians must remember that God has also manifested himself in some way to the followers of other religious traditions.” This recognition takes humility: to give up on any kind of triumphalistic notion that only my religion has “all the answers.” Seeking God through the wisdom of other faiths can be a profound way of deepening one’s own spirituality. As the Pontifical Council puts it, “Far from weakening their own faith, true dialogue will deepen it.” Amen!
Simplicity and Prayer
The Abbey Church at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. Image via Wikipedia
In the simple promises for the junior lay associates (Lay Cistercians) of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, we promise, among other things, to live “life in simplicity and prayer.” I love that juxtaposition. Prayer and simplicity go together so beautifully, it seems to me, that one of the best ways to cultivate in our hearts the space for prayer is by allowing things to be simple. I don’t mean simple in the sense of not very smart, but simple in the sense of what Taoists call wu-wei, or “going with the flow” or “acting naturally.” It’s what some Christian thinkers call “second simplicity” — not the pre-rational simplicity of a small child, but rather the trans-rational perspective of one who has recognized that life is filled with and surrounded by mystery, and allowing such mystery to just be, liberates us to focus on the important things: cultivating fearlessness, and kindness, and compassion; love of neighbors, and fostering a contemplative stance, beholding God as not just something done for a half hour each morning, but as an ongoing way of life.
We can think ourselves into knots, especially around the propositional ideas within religion: “how can an all-good God permit suffering and evil?” “why would God require belief in one particular person, i.e. Christ, in order for us to be acceptable to him?” “how can we reconcile the concept of hell with an all-loving deity?” and on and on. By the time I was in High School, questions like this burdened my faith. Looking back, I see their importance, in that wrestling with these issues helped me to move beyond the naive simplicity of childhood into an adulthood in which I learned to discern my own conscience, to think for myself, and to take responsibility for my own actions, not just motivated by a reward/punishment system. But I also learned that questions like these are spiritual tar-babies, threatening to mire us in never-ending spirals of doubt and questioning that lead only to deeper chasms of meaninglessness. At some point, we have to say “enough”! And then everyone faces a choice: to retreat into a dogmatic position (fundamentalism, whether of the theist or atheist variety), or embrace the not-knowing, leading to an openness and willingness to marvel at the mystery. Here our choices are secular agnosticism (which, while a position I disagree with, I find much more respectable than dogmatic atheism) or what I call “holy agnosis” — a willingness to remain open to the mystery of faith, the experience of God, and the intuition that love is more than a biochemical process, but indeed is the heart not only of the universe but of the Ultimate Mystery from whom the universe comes. This willingness to enter what in the fourteenth century was christened “the cloud of unknowing” is the beginning, it seems to be, of the contemplative life. And it is also the beginning of a life lived in simplicity and prayer.
So simplicity then, is a willingness to live in mystery, chopping wood and carrying water because such things are the necessary tasks at any one moment. It’s living in the present, what de Caussade calls the “abandonment to divine providence.” It’s not sweating the small stuff, while recognizing that even the small stuff represents opportunities to live in love. Prayer is likewise very simple. It’s not merely about saying prayers, although saying prayers can be an important element of prayer. Rather, simple prayer is about orienting and calibrating our lives toward seeking, and responding to, and listening for, the love that cascades over us from the heart of the Divine Mystery. So it’s an ongoing process. As Saint Paul said, “pray without ceasing.”
I hope each of us can find time to breathe deeply today, and remember that we are held by a love that is deeper than what we can seek, or ask for, or imagine, or experience. Many blessings to you.
Quote for the Day
You might stare for hours at a sunset, and suddenly disappear into the World Soul, and feel yourself at one with all nature. This is well and good. But nature is not the source of this intuition. Worms and rats and foxes and weasels do not stare for hours at the sunset, and marvel at its beauty, and transcend themselves in that release — even though their senses are in many cases much sharper than ours, even though they see nature more clearly than we! No, nature is not the source of this Beauty; nature is its destination. The source is transcendental Spirit, of which nature is a radiant expression.
— Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything
General Orders No. 9
The Rabbit Will Mislead You
This past Saturday Fran, Rhiannon and I went to see General Orders No. 9, a new movie that was screening at Georgia State University’s Cinefeste Film Theater. We first learned about the movie because it was directed by Bob Persons, who is married to our friend Lisa whom we know through the Friends of L’Arche Atlanta. Bob grew up in the same town Fran did, and when we poked around online to learn a bit more about the film we discovered that parts of it were filmed in and around their home. So, our interest sufficiently piqued, off we went to check it out. And I’m glad we did.
This film has won several awards, particularly for its cinematography, and they’re well deserved: it’s simply gorgeous, luminous with color but also stark in its understated consideration of urbanization and alienation in the south. A dreamy voice-over muses on how order and chaos exist in uneasy tension in a world where an agrarian myth collides with the horror of its own past — and the glare of its own present. To call the film “contemplative” seems an understatement: Persons tried to make it a dreamlike experience, and he succeeded marvelously. It’s also deliciously ambiguous in its ending, thankfully avoiding any sort of apocalyptic posturing but finishing with a silent question mark. Here’s where we’ve been. Here’s where we are. Now, where we off to?
We were fortunate on the evening we saw the film in that Persons attended the screening and engaged in a Q&A with the audience for about twenty minutes. I asked him if he considered the film more “pagan” or “catholic” in its tone. He said it was a good question and pointed out that you can’t talk about the American south without talking about, as Flannery O’Connor put it, the “Christ-haunted” landscape. That just about summed it up. He also spoke rather at length about both the title (a reference to Robert E. Lee’s directives following the surrender at Appomattox) and the image of Br’er Rabbit on the movie poster. Neither Lee nor the Rabbit appear in the film, although the ghosts of the Civil War (and Joel Chandler Harris) can be felt if you know what to look for. Persons spoke eloquently about how these marketing markers connected with the film serve as a sort of “misdirection.” I liked that stage magic analogy, and given the kind of alpha state I was in after spending 75 minutes watching his dreamy film, I made some interesting connections that might show up in my next book. Stay tuned.
An image from "General Orders No. 9," from Macon GA
General Orders No. 9 remains at Cinefeste until August 21. We’re going to try to go see it again; if you live anywhere near Atlanta I hope you’ll make the effort to go see it as well. It’s also going to be screening in Athens and Savannah, GA, as well as Albuquerque and New York — and visit the website to see where else it might show up. The DVD, Blu-Ray, and downloadable versions will be available in November.
Taken Up
Image via Wikipedia
Today is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. What I find interesting about this idea of the assumption is its implications for those of us living here on the earth today.
Morning prayer today includes this Responsory: “Today the Virgin Mary was taken up to heaven.” Now, if we can agree that heaven is all about being in the presence of God, and if we can also agree that God is omnipresent, then it seems obvious that we can be “taken up to heaven” right here and right now. No leaving earth required. Nor, for that matter, must we wait until the completion “of the course of our earthly life.”
Just to be clear, so I don’t upset either my firmly Protestant or my traditionalist Catholic readers: I’m not trying to argue about whether Mary was (or was not) bodily assumed. To me, that’s about as useless as arguing about whether the resurrection actually happened, or whether God is really a Trinity or not. Some people believe in all these things, and others don’t, and still others aren’t so sure. Arguing rarely changes anybody’s mind, but sure creates a lot of pain and strained relationships in the meantime.
In other words, if we use Catholic teaching about the assumption (and Protestant resistance to that teaching) as a way to argue with each other, trying to prove who’s got the truth and who doesn’t, then we’ve missed the point altogether. We’ve missed the invitation to be taken up ourselves into heaven, into the presence of God, right here and right now. To me, the assumption is not so much about what did (or did not) happen to Mary at the completion of the course of her earthly life. Rather, it is a mystical teaching that we can reflect on to consider what God promises each of us.
The New Testament is filled with language about the presence of God. “I am with you always,” promised Jesus. Paul notes that believers have the mind of Christ, and collectively are the Body of Christ. Peter comments on how we partake in the Divine Nature. None of this is deferred until the end of our earthly life. It’s all a promise in real time. So what would it mean for you and me to be “taken up” into the heavenly presence of God, right here, right now?
That’s not something we can make happen, like someone makes a decision to save 10,000 dollars over the next year and then starts socking away $193 bucks a week. Notice the passive quality: Mary was taken up to heaven. She did not issue the orders here: she accepted what was given to her. Now, I’m not saying that all we have to do is open our hearts and minds to the possibility and suddenly we will all be having supernatural experiences of Union with God. I don’t think Union with God is all about supernatural experiences anyway.
If you and I truly recognized that God is fully present in our lives, right here and right now, I don’t care how much pain we would be suffering or how many problems we would be facing. The fact is, we would be in heaven — body and soul. How does this happen? If we are to believe the great mystics, it is pure grace, but we can prepare for it through immersing ourselves in the word of God, the sacraments of the church, daily prayer, and daily meditation. Loving our neighbors as ourselves, and being radically generous and kind to those less fortunate than ourselves is pretty important too. Doing all this, day in and day out, without hope for reward, just because these things are the right thing to do in themselves. Every day, we open ourselves up to God’s presence, which we may believe in but not necessarily feel. Which we may experience as a thought, or an emotion, or even an altered state of consciousness. But God is not our thoughts, nor our feelings, nor our experiences, nor our states of mind. So the Union we seek, the heaven we long for, is somehow higher and deeper than all those things.
I think that whatever may or may not have happened to Mary at the end of the course of her earthly life, is, in a way, a decoy. It diverts our attention from the more interesting question: how did Mary experience the presence of God, day in and day out, as she lived her life as a follower of the way? Ponder that for a minute. Then turn this question back to us: how can we live our lives, ordinary, day-t0-day living, in such a way that, as the prayer goes, “we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ”?
How can I open up to the presence of God that our faith teaches is always, already, present? How can I trust that presence, knowing that my thoughts and feelings — my “monkey mind” — are notoriously unreliable? What lies beneath the chatter of my mind-monkey, and how can I find that reality deep within me (within all of us, within all of creation)? I don’t know if I will be “taken up” to heaven or not — but how can I open myself to discovering the kingdom of heaven which is within me, and among us, right here and right now?
Tallis in Atlanta
Thomas Tallis, father of English sacred music
Guess where I’ll be tomorrow afternoon?
At the “Labor of Love” Choral Concert, featuring music by Vaughan Williams, Wagner, Brahms, and — the pièce de résistance — Thomas Tallis’ 40-part motet, Spem in Alium. According to the website promoting the concert, this motet has never been performed in Georgia before (it’s not easy to put together a chorus of forty voices, I would imagine). What promises to make this concert particularly special: the choir will be surrounding the audience, meaning that you will be literally sitting “inside” the motet, with the voices coming at you from all directions!
Every piece of music on the program explores love from a different angle: love of nature, love of music, falling in love, and so forth (the Tallis motet, obviously enough, celebrates the love of God).
The concert begins at 3 PM, at the Central Congregational United Church of Christ (a beautiful setting) on Clairmont Road. There’s no charge for this event (although donations are welcome). What’s not to love?
Will I see you there?
For more details, here’s the event website: www.thomastallis.webs.com
Quote for the Day
Silence is our natural state. Lack of silence erodes our humanity.
…
Through intention we can teach our selves to default to silence; meditation is only a first and very minor step.
— Maggie Ross, Writing the Icon of the Heart
Upcoming events
I’ve got a lot of wonderful events coming up this fall. They’re pretty much all in the Metro Atlanta area or nearby — between writing my new book and wanting to be available in case my daughter has a medical emergency, I’m trying to limit the amount of travel I’m doing for now. But if you do happen to live in the vicinity, I hope I’ll see you at one of these events:
September 4, 2011: Decatur Book Festival. This is my first (hopefully of many) appearances at this premier literary event, and I am thrilled to be part of it. On Sunday morning, September 4, I will be teaching an adult education class and then preaching at First Christian Church of Decatur. For the Book Festival itself, I’ll be speaking that afternoon at 2:30 PM, on the City Hall Stage. My topic will be “Christian Mysticism and Interfaith Spirituality.”
September 17, 2011: Contemplation & Emergence: A Day Retreat at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Family, Jasper, GA. The word on the street is that Holy Family is a beautiful church, in a lovely community. This day will combine time for silence and personal reflection with some thoughts on the question of how the ancient practice of contemplative prayer naturally connects with the vision and promise of the emergence/emergent movement within Christianity today. For more details, please visit the event’s Facebook Page.
October 13 – November 10, 2011: Introduction to Christian Mysticism five-week course through Evening at Emory, Atlanta, GA. This event, loosely structured around The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, offers an overview of the ideas, key players, and primary practices of the mystical stream of Christian spirituality. Continuing Education Credit is available for this course. Click on the link to register.
In addition to these events, I’ll be providing Sunday morning adult education at various churches in the metro Atlanta area, leading a retreat at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, and contributing to a “Spirituality Immersion” experience at Columbia Theological Seminary. I also organize Atlanta area Meetup groups devoted to Christian Mysticism and Christian Meditation. See the “Upcoming Events” widget on the right-hand column of my blog for more details on these and other events.
A Birthday Cake for Two Monks
Last week two monks of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit had birthdays. Father Anthony (who is the monastic advisor to the Lay Associates, of whom I am a member) turned a mere 83. But Father Luke, our last surviving founder (he’s been at the monastery since it was established in 1944) turned 100!
Needless to say, the monks have been celebrating, and on Sunday at our Lay Associates’ Gathering Day, we treated these two elders to a cake & ice cream party. Here’s a little video showing Father Luke blessing the cake, blowing out the candles and cutting the cake.
I know some people think of monks as overly solemn men who never smile because they’re so busy with their penitential praying. But that’s not what I’ve seen — of course, these men take their faith seriously, but it’s a seriousness borne out of a basic sense of happiness and joy. I hope this little video communicates a bit of that spirit.
Inside the Shell
Image by "Dulciwoman" via Flickr. Photo license: All Rights Reserved
Mark Doty has written a wonderful poem called “A Green Crab’s Shell.” You can read it here. It’s about finding a crab shell and wondering at the beautiful shock of “Giotto blue” found within it — the color of the sky, carried by the crab all life long and yet invisible to all (except God). It took the crab’s death, probably at the beak of some hungry seagull, to reveal this lovely, hidden color. Doty goes on to muse about what kinds of treasures you and I carry, hidden within our skin, that only death (of some sort or another) might reveal.
Isn’t this, at the end of the day, what mysticism is all about — discerning the treasures hidden, often deep within, and then making those treasures known to the world, to your self, to God — even if at the cost of your own life? “To save your life, you must lose it.” If we peel back the shell of our so-called false self, what splendors might be revealed, buried deep within us by the love of God long before we were born, gifts available to us, if only we could discern where to look for them, or what sacrifice must be made to access them?
But wait, it gets better. For mysticism is not merely about what has been hidden within you and me (remember, the word mysticism is related to mystery, both words derived from a Greek root meaning to shut or to close — hence, to hide away). It also beckons us to discover what treasures have been hidden deep within the very heart of God. For Christians, we affirm that God, like our little crustacean friend, has died (on the cross) to unleash the full scope of his beauty, truth, and goodness. The death is no final tragedy, for it is merely the prelude to the resurrection. Yet it is also an unexpected triumph, for in that radical letting go, surrendering, kenosis (see Philippians 2), God’s mystery has now been revealed. God in Christ — and Christ in you and me, the hope of glory.
Giotto's Resurrection: "Noli me tangere"
Contemplatives like Thomas Keating are fond of saying that the original sin is not so much about the metaphorical apple, or even disobedience, but rather stems from the primal mistake of forgetting who we are: children of God, one with God by the bonds of grace and charity. We are created in the image and likeness of God, but we have forgotten this, so profoundly and so existentially that we are all mired in an intractable dynamic of being and behaving in all sorts of not-very-Godlike ways. But now that God has died, and the mystery has been revealed, we are offered — freely, with no strings attached — a way out of the mire. This is the nature of our vocation as Christians, as contemplatives: “Here, take this hand! All you have to do is hold on. I’ll do the heavy lifting.” And so God slowly, lovingly, surely, lifts us out of the muck, to a place where we might remember who we are, and discern the treasures hidden within our shells.
One final twist, though: we’ve been promised a resurrected life, but not an ascended one. Transformed so that the sky blue hidden within our shells shines forth with the radiance of the sun, we are not whisked away to some eternal theme park, but rather left right here, in the world of the muck and the mire. Because it is our calling, not merely to accept the helping hand to recall us to who we truly are, but then to be the hands offered to others: so that the circle of life and hope might continue to grow.
Thanks to Brother Cassian of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit for introducing me to Mark Doty’s wonderful poem.
Please Think About the Person in a Wheelchair!
Okay, I usually don’t do a lot of whining on this blog. But once in a while I let it rip. And this is one of those times, so you’ve been warned.
Last evening Fran, Rhiannon and I went out on what we jokingly call our “hot Friday night date” — which usually consists of eating at an inexpensive, vegan-friendly restaurant and then visiting a local bookshop. Last night it was Borders, where of course the going out of business sale was just too appealing not to pass up (I found two treasures: Each Moment is the Universe: Zen and the Way of Being Time by Dainin Katagiri, and In the Buddha’s Words: An Anthology of Discourses from the Pali Canon edited by Bhikkhu Bodhi). But the point behind my griping is not about the bookstore, but about what happened at the burrito joint where we went to eat.
Now granted, we were at one of the most popular burrito joints in downtown Atlanta, with a small parking lot, at dinner time on a Friday evening. So it was busy. But that’s really not an excuse for what happened. Twice — as we were arriving, and as we were leaving, someone parked illegally by the handicapped curb-cut in front of the restaurant. A different person each time. I can imagine that each of those persons was just picking up dinner to go, and thought “Oh, I’ll only be here for a minute” and so parked in the spot adjacent to the handicapped spot, marked out with diagonal lines because it’s in front of the curb-cut. And they went inside to get their dinner — and left my daughter in her wheelchair without access.
One of the drivers came out, with a bag full of burritos, to get in her car as we were standing there. I approached her and pointed to my daughter and told her how inconsiderate it was for her to block the curb-cut. She just shrugged and said “Sorry” in a flat voice, got in her SUV and drove away. (As it turned out, both times it was an SUV blocking the curb-cut. I try not to be prejudicial in my thinking, but these two particular SUV drivers sure played into a given stereotype).
Now, I’ll make a confession. Before Rhiannon came in my life, I didn’t understand handicapped parking. I thought some places had too many handicapped spots. Guess what? I never have that thought anymore. Now it’s usually the other way: I marvel at how few handicapped parking spots, or van accessible parking, or curb-cuts there are. There’s a restaurant we like to frequent in Watkinsville, GA, near where my father lives in a nursing home. This establishment is in a relatively new shopping complex, with a half dozen or so businesses on each side of a driveway. Plenty of parking — but only two handicapped spots, and two curb-cuts, both at the far end of the shopping center from where the restaurant we frequent is located. Why the designers didn’t bother to put handicapped parking and curb-cuts at the other end is beyond me.
I was really tempted to say something nasty to the lady in the SUV last night, something like, “Well, I hope it won’t take you winding up in a wheelchair for you to learn how rude you’re being.” But my better angel prevailed, and I kept that thought to myself. But I’m posting it here, because I think it does need to be said. It seems to me that people who park in handicapped parking spots when they don’t have a permit to do so, or who mindlessly block van accessible parking and/or curb-cuts, do such inconsiderate things because so far they’ve been lucky: they’ve never had someone close to them confined to a wheelchair, or never had to use a wheelchair themselves. I confess, that’s what it took for me to understand. So I’m writing this long-winded whine today, in the hopes that someone reading it will become more mindful of this issue, without having to learn from first-hand experience how troubling it is when others block accessibility for no reason more momentous then their momentary convenience.
One last word and then I’ll shut up. I’ve heard it said that we shouldn’t judge people who park in handicapped spots without a permit, because they might have a handicap other than something obvious like being confined to a wheelchair. Maybe they’ve got a replaced hip or suffer from heart disease or so forth. I understand that many “invisible” handicaps limit people. But here’s something to consider: if you, or someone you love, has a legitimate reason to use a handicapped parking spot, do what my wife and every other handicapped person or their caregiver has done: go to your doctor and get the necessary paperwork completed for you to receive a handicapped parking permit, which will either be on your license plate or displayed on your dashboard. If you don’t bother to get the permit, then you don’t belong in the handicapped parking spot. Period.
Okay, whining rant finished. We’ll return to our regular programming with my next blog post.
When no one is blocking a curb-cut, we're all smiles!
Quote for the Day
No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.
— Albert Einstein, as quoted in
The Book of Not Knowing:
Exploring the True Nature
of Self, Mind, and
Consciousness
by Peter Ralston
Of Cats and Interfaith Friendship
My latest post for the Huffington Post is online. Here’s the link to go read it:
Curiosity May Be Hard On Cats, But It’s Great For Interfaith Friendships
Literary Prayer
Okay, I have a confession to make.
Sometimes I get bored with spiritual writing. That may seem like a crazy foolish thing for me to admit, for after all, I am a “spiritual writer” myself. But it’s true. I can only take so much gentle, kind, inspirational prose about discovering our inner authenticity and learning to let God’s forgiving love transform us so that we can in turn bring compassion and forgiveness to others…. yada yada yada… I believe it all, it’s all true, but sometimes it just gets a little boring. It’s kind of like contemporary Christian music. Some of it (the David Crowder Band leaps to mind) is authentically creative and worthy of repeated listens. But so much of it feels rather constrained by the essential politeness of its message. It may be good, and honest, and true, but it lacks passion, and risk, and danger.
The solution to such boredom, of course, is to make sure we don’t have a steady diet of religious prose (or music). But this doesn’t always have to be an either/or proposition. Sarah Arthur and Paraclete Press have recently produced a wonderful devotional book called At the Still Point: A Literary Guide to Prayer in Ordinary Time — which is, as the title suggests, a collection of literary writings arranged to foster a lively devotional practice. Set in a 29-week cycle (long enough to cover the period from Pentecost until Advent), this book features excerpts of poetry and prose from a wide array of authors, including George Eliot, Herman Melville, Jane Austen, Leo Tolstoy — as well as authors we might more intuitively think of as “spiritual,” like George Herbert, John Donne, Julian of Norwich, George MacDonald, and Dante. The book is set up so that you can use it as a daily devotional, or for a longer, weekly sampling of the literary treasures it contains. Each week has its own contemplative theme: “In the Stillness,” “The Intimacy of Grace,” “Communion of the Body” and so forth. Basically, this is a book for bringing a love for fine writing into your practice of prayer (and vice versa). It’s well worth checking out.
Four questions about Mysticism
A reader named Matt wrote the following questions to me, quite some time ago (sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, Matt!):
- The Reformed, and Protestant traditions have been quite suspicious of some of the practices of “Mysticism”, why is that, and what would be a response to Protestant concerns?
- What is the theology behind Christian Mysticism?
- Does Christian Mysticism have Biblical Support?
- How does one go about practicing the more Mystical aspects of the Christian faith?
Any one of these could be a book in itself. Let me offer some brief thoughts, and then hopefully between reader comments and future posts we can explore these issues in a bit greater detail. (more…)
Thoughts about Mysticism from 1953… and now
The Benedictine and the Trappist: Graham (l) and Merton
Here’s something interesting I stumbled across online the other day: an article from Time Magazine’s February 2, 1953 issue:
Religion: Benedictine v. Trappist
It’s basically an article about a Benedictine writer, Dom Aelred Graham (author of Contemplative Christianity and Zen Catholicism among other works), who offers criticism for the ideas he sees being put forth by Thomas Merton. After almost a half century, it’s interesting to see some criticism leveled at Merton during his lifetime. But let’s put this in context: this article was written a mere four years after the publication of Merton’s bestselling The Seven Storey Mountain — and, significantly, over five years before Merton’s life-changing epiphany that took place on a spring day in 1958, when he saw ordinary shoppers on a busy street corner in Louisville, KY, “shining like the sun.” The 1958 epiphany, most Merton scholars agree, marked a watershed moment in Merton’s life, when he moved away from the kind of mystical piety that characterized his early work (like Seven Storey Mountain) toward a more earthy, inclusive, engaged spirituality in which we wrested with issues such as contemporary politics and interfaith dialogue.
So while I don’t agree with everything Dom Aelred has to say about Merton’s ideas, it is interesting to consider that, before the end of Merton’s life, he himself probably would have agreed with much of the criticism laid out in this article.
Dom Aelred argues that Merton “implies that the monastic, ascetic life is the only way to sainthood.” At the time, that was probably true, but that certainly changed after 1958. I agree with Dom Aelred that this is a problem. But then I take issue with his assertion that “Mysticism is not for the masses but for an elite.” Merton’s Benedictine critic seems to be saying that mysticism is inherently world-denying, and therefore ill-suited for the average or ordinary person, whose life is deeply engaged with the earthy stuff of everyday life. This perspective, I suspect, was fairly widespread in the 1950s (it still crops up today), but I think it represents a fairly fundamental misunderstanding of mysticism — or, at least, of Christian mysticism. Mysticism as flight from the world is something that Plotinus and the other Greek Neo-Platonists bequeathed to Christianity, and is certainly not the heart of the mystical spirituality of the New Testament, which is all about Christ transforming this world more so than abandoning it for some ethereal realm.
My guess is that Dom Aelred wasn’t familiar with Evelyn Underhill; and this was before the major work of Karl Rahner — let alone the mature Merton, and his disciples like Thomas Keating and M. Basil Pennington. From the vantage point of today, to see a mainstream magazine like Time publish an article with such an understanding of Christian mysticism that would be so discredited now is simply evidence of how far the understanding of Christian spirituality has come in the past half-century.
Of course, there’s a paradox here. Plotinus and his followers did have a significant impact on Christian spirituality, and that impact continues to this day (think of all the current bestselling books about folks who go to heaven and come back: Heaven is For Real, The Boy Who Came Back From Heaven, and so forth). So, while I believe that in its origin Christian mysticism was this-worldly, certainly by the time of Augustine and Pseudo-Dionysius it had developed an other-worldly dimension as well. So while I disagree with Dom Aelred for seeming to say that only the other-worldly dimension is truly “mystical,” I think it would be just as much a mistake to argue that Christian mysticism can only be this-worldly. Somehow, in the Richard Rohr “everything belongs” sort of way, Christian spirituality has both a this-worldly and an 0ther-worldly dimension to it. In fact, perhaps part of what makes Merton so interesting is that over the course of his career as a writer he embraced both of those dimensions in the way he wrote about Christian mysticism.
