Michael Nugent understands idolatry but gets heaven wrong
Michael Nugent, Irish Atheist
The Irish atheist Michael Nugent has some interesting things to say about the use and abuse of faith in a recent opinion piece published in the Irish Times. Faith ceases to be a virtue when it has little connection with facts of reality, he asserts, and points out that placing our faith in secular “gods” (like the banks or capitalism in general) can be as irrational as placing faith in religion or priests. He goes on to make an interesting statement: “all ‘gods’, whether religious or secular, are created by humans to advance their interests.”
Which perhaps goes a long way to explaining why idols have been taboo in the Abrahamic faiths. Of course, it’s not just idols fashioned of wood or stone or resin. I particularly like how another man named Michael, Michael Haggerty, re-envisions the second commandment in his book Out of the House of Slavery: “You shall not enshrine any notion, ideology, or interest as God and allow yourself to be dominated by it.” Idols are prohibited because they always represent some sort of underhanded political manipulation: “worship this god… and, by the way, bow before me as this god’s priest.” We smash the idols because we are called to be free.
So far, so good. But Nugent is like so many other atheists in relentlessly throwing out the spiritual baby with the religious bathwater. He insists that “religious faith is more dangerous than secular faith” — in other words, it’s worse to put your faith in Catholicism than in Wall Street (this is where he loses me). His argument: because religious faith is based on “eternal rewards … in an imaginary and untestable afterlife.” In other words, religion is more dangerous than capitalism because religion asks you to change your behavior on behalf of a pie in the sky, which can never be proven false (or true) until after you die, and then it’s too late. Therefore, religion, Nugent concludes, is oppressive.
Frankly, if all religion offered me were a pie in the sky, I’d be with the atheists.
What Nugent misses is the promise of contemplative mysticism: that heaven is not a post-mortem reward for earthly obedience, but a way of entering a transformed and transforming level of consciousness right here and right now. Granted, the afterlife reward is part of Christianity’s metanarrative, and it shows up in other faiths as well. But mystics from Richard of Saint Victor to Julian of Norwich (to name just two that leap to mind) are clear that the point behind grace is to begin living a heavenly life today, not once we die. Those who speak of the afterlife merely say that the heaven we enjoy now is but a foretaste of the banquet that awaits us. But the point behind metanoia — the change of heart/mind that marks the initiation into the mystical life — is to pour out our capacity to love God and others now, to create the space for receiving the consciousness of love now as well. Love poured out opens us up to receive love in still greater abundance. That begins at the moment of metanoia. And yes, there’s an unverifiable promise that it gets even better beyond death. But for those of us who are willing to taste Divine felicity here and now, that is alone, and enough, reward for the sacrifices Love asks us to make.
Atheists want to ditch religion altogether, while mystics understand that religion, like any other human endeavor, must always be reformed in the light of what Love demands. So I join with Michael Nugent in sensibly rejecting any man-made god, existing only to advance the interests of those humans who stand to benefit by them. But beyond the limits of what humanity can create or imagine, the Divine Mystery remains, ever inviting all of us, individually and communally, into the bracing transformation of love, joy, peace, and justice. I suppose many atheists might insist on rejecting all language of God and Love, dismissing such talk as only metaphysical nonsense. But it seems to me that what would be left would be a world bereft of wonder and mystery. Such a world would be bowing before an idol of its own rational-secular making, as pernicious as any theocratic lord. So, mindful of the risks that idolatry always presents, and cognizant of how easily we mortals create idols in material as well as mental ways, I remain convinced that the God of Divine Love and Mystery is more experientially and intuitively true than no god at all. And every time I look deep within my own heart and mind and catch a glimpse of heaven out of the corner of my eye, I sense that my conviction remains sound.
A Message from a Dream
Last night I had an interesting dream.
In it I worked at a large bookstore, like a Borders or a Barnes & Noble. I had a small office off of the main sales floor where I worked, and in the dream, I walked in to my office to find three or four customers standing there, waiting to make purchases. I didn’t have a cash register, so I escorted them out on the main floor to the cashier’s station, where to my surprise and delight I found Kitty, my assistant manager from the bookstore I ran up in Tennessee many years ago. Kitty passed away earlier this year, and this was the first time she has appeared in a dream of mine for quite some time — certainly the first time since her passing. We both smiled as we greeted each other, and then I teasingly said, in an allusion to her death, “Kitty, it’s great to see you! But does this mean I’m in heaven?”
“Not exactly,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “You see, heaven is in you.”
Back to the Mountain
Pax, Ora et Labora: gateway to the organic farm at St. Mary's, Sewanee
Fran and I spent this past weekend in Sewanee, TN. “The Mountain,” as it is affectionately called, is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, a college town on the Cumberland Plateau nestled in forested land filled with caves, hiking trails, waterfalls, a natural bridge, and other wonders.
It’s the first time we’ve been back since my friend Bob’s funeral, back in February of 2009. I lived in Sewanee from 1988 to 1993, running the campus bookstore at the University of the South. I left when Fran and I got married, and have been in Atlanta ever since. But even though it’s only about a three hour drive away, I’ve only been back to my old home three or four times since leaving. Not that there’s no reason to go back — Sewanee is beautiful, and almost without exception everyone I knew up there was wonderful. My staying away is partially due to the demands of family life (especially with Rhiannon’s health issues), partially due to a tendency Fran and I have to visit family before friends when we travel, and — here’s the juice — partially due to my own longstanding inner tension that first fully erupted when I lived in Sewanee — the tension concerning my love for nature-based and indigenous spiritualities even while I anchor my identity as a Christian. Sewanee, home to a liberal arts college and seminary affiliated with the Episcopal Church, is kind of a Christian company town; but there are plenty of old hippies and deadheads and magical-thinkers who live out in the woods, enough to make this small community the kind of place where enthusiasm for alternative spirituality can find nurture as well.
So why do I go back now? Mainly because a dear member of my current circle of friends has moved up there: Michael Thompson, one of the leaders of the new Ecumenical Lay Associates at the monastery here in Georgia, has begun a farming project on the grounds of the St. Mary’s Conference Center, near the Episcopal Convent of St. Mary’s just beyond the edge of campus. When I lived in Sewanee, young and rather lacking in self-confidence, I basically lived a double life: the Christian Carl, who was on the vestry at the local church and even flirted with the idea of going to seminary, and the pagan Carl, who participated in sweatlodges and Wiccan circles under the full moon out on a remote bluff near the natural bridge. Perhaps it’s only a relatively new friend, who knows my whole story and who knows me well today, who can most fittingly re-introduce me to the crucible of my youth where I discovered and deepened my twin loves: for the profound silence of contemplation, and the erotic mysteries of the soil.
The story of my subsequent life in Atlanta has been the story of slowly learning to accept myself in my entirety, that somehow there is no contradiction between the man who wrote The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Paganism and the man who wrote The Big Book of Christian Mysticism. In the inclusive, all-embracing spirituality of my maturity, I can agree with Richard Rohr that “everything belongs” even while I now remain committed to practicing my spirituality in a monastic, and therefore Christian, context. But who I am today is the fruit of many years’ searching. In returning to Sewanee, I am coming back not merely as a prodigal son returning home, but as someone profoundly changed — changed simply by finally accepting who I really am, in my gloriously contradictory entirety.
So it seems that I require a new friend, someone intimate with me as I am in 2011, to reintroduce me to a place I knew and loved so well, but where, at least when I lived there, I never could just allow myself to “be.” Part of the experience of going back, however, has been the surprise of discovering just how much more at ease I feel with myself today — and that includes feeling at ease even with the mistakes I made two decades ago. Over the course of the weekend I was reminded both of how fully Sewanee has remained a part of me, and how much the people of this place knew who I truly was, even when I didn’t know how to fully accept myself. I surprised myself — and my companions — with how much of even the tiniest details I remembered about this my home from 20 years ago, recalling how to find a favorite waterfall tucked underneath a bluff at the edge of campus to spontaneously recognizing people I hadn’t seen in 20 years — and whom I barely knew, even back then. But when I did run into one of my closer friends from back then, the wife of a seminary professor, her first question to me was, “So, are you still listening to the Grateful Dead?” I wish I had been clever enough to say, “No these days I’m more inclined to play Dar Williams,” before humming a bar or two of “The Christians and the Pagans.” And in visiting with Sister Lucy, the matriarch of the small community of nuns, now almost blind and confined to a wheelchair but still with plenty of fire in her heart, I felt reminded of more than a few of the monks of Conyers, and felt filled with gratitude for all the holy people in my life, both past and present.
Back to my friend Michael and his organic farm. See the accompanying picture of the sign he built at the front of his blackberry garden and vineyard. Peace, Prayer and Work it proclaims, in Latin as befits a student of the Rule of St. Benedict. Michael understands that contemplation means everything belongs — that there is no contradiction between the urge for transcendence and the celebration of immanence, that a healthy spirituality entails both toes curling in the dirt and fingers reaching for the heavens. Mother Nature and the mystery we call God lovingly pour themselves into each other, and I think it takes a farmer who prays to fully get this. I’ve always been a bookish nerd, more inclined to skulk about in libraries than to get humus under my fingernails. If it’s not too late to teach this old dog a few new tricks, maybe Michael and his agricultural oblation will invite me to an even deeper place where I can integrate the wisdom of the body with my noetic yearning.
And it’s for that reason that I hope to return to Sewanee, soon and soon again. Where I can see both new friends and old, and embrace all of my own story — the shy introvert who found meaning in the message of the mystics, and the middle class rebel who discovered in alternative spiritualities a way to reconnect with my body and the earth. Maybe Sewanee will help me to truly and finally embrace that these things are not-two.
Quote for the Day
Nothing in the universe resembles God more than silence.
— Meister Eckhart,
as quoted by John O’Donohue in
Four Elements: Reflections on Nature
Christian Mysticism Class at Evening at Emory begins October 13
There’s still time to register for the Introduction to Christian Mysticism class being offered through the Evening at Emory program. Continuing education credit is available for this 5-week class. To register, click here.
Here’s the course description from the Emory website:
Introduction to Christian Mysticism |
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Evening at Emory
Humanities and Cultural Studies
The renowned twentieth century German theologian Karl Rahner said, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or will not exist at all.” What could he have meant by this? In the popular mind, mysticism is associated with eastern spirituality, like Yoga or Zen. But there is a little-known tradition of meditation and spiritual awakening even within Christianity. This non-sectarian class will survey the history of Christian mysticism from Biblical times to the present, explore the meaning of mysticism and why Christians often view it with suspicion, and consider the role that mysticism might play in Christianity of the present and future. Textbook not included.
Textbook: The Big Book of Christian Mysticism: The Essential Guide to Contemplative Spirituality
Instructor: Carl McColman, MA in Professional Writing and Editing, author of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism
5 session(s): Thu: Oct 13-Nov 10 / 7:00-9:00 pm
Registration fee: $210 CEUs: 1 
After this class, you will be able to:
- Understand what mysticism is, and how its meaning has evolved over time;
- Survey the key Christian mystics from Biblical times to the present day;
- Learn the reasons why mysticism is controversial within Christianity;
- Understand mysticism’s relationship with monasticism, and what kinds of spiritual practices mystics have engaged in over the centuries;
- Speculate on how mysticism can remain vital to Christianity in the future.
What will be covered:
Class 1: Introduction
- Defining mysticism
- How the concept of mysticism has evolved over time
- Distinctive qualities of Christian mysticism
- How mysticism differs from occultism, esotericism, gnosticism and piety
Class 2: History of Mysticism through 1200
- Mysticism in the Bible
- The Alexandrian Mystics
- The Desert Fathers and Mothers
- Pseudo-Dionysius, Augustine, and the Greek tradition
Class 3: History of Mysticism from 1200 to the present
- High medieval mysticism: Cistercians, Franciscans, and Dominicans
- Northern European Mysticism
- Southern European Mysticism
- Protestantism and Modern Mysticism
Class 4: What Mystics Do
- Ascetical Practices: Monasticism, Celibacy, Austerity
- Lectio Divina and Biblical study
- Meditation and Contemplation
- The Relationship Between Mysticism and Works of Mercy/Social Action
Class 5: Understanding Mysticism
- Mysticism and Heresy: Why have so many mystics been rejected by the Christian mainstream
- The Protestant Reformation and the Marginalization of Mysticism
- The Twentieth Century Renaissance (Christianity encounters eastern mysticism)
- Thoughts about how mysticism will evolve in the future
Preach it, Brother Stephen!
This was on Facebook the other day (thanks to Jack G. for posting it!).
I wonder how many snarky comments I'll get for posting this one...
