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Sunday, March 08, 2009
Finding The Sacred: A Sunday Rumination
I've written before that, despite the utilitarian value of Christian faith and practice, it's unwise to "become a Christian" because it's "good for you." All the same, those practical benefits are real and substantial. Certainly God isn't averse to our enjoyment of them, else He would have made the faith a purely painful, sacrificial proposition. As that would have required life itself to be an unbroken, unmitigated exercise in pain and strife, we may dismiss the possibility with prejudice.
Yes, I'm aware that there are still churches and preachers in the world who claim that He finds value in human suffering. They're wrong and worse than wrong. God finds value in faith and virtue: things that are occasionally tested by suffering. But pain, loss, sorrow and regret are unimportant in and of themselves; what matters is what they reveal of us when we must confront them.
Americans have grown unaccustomed to suffering. We've succeeded in erecting a "bubble of comfort" (Peter Kreeft) around ourselves that's nearly impenetrable by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Our material success has been so great that even our poor people would qualify as rich virtually anywhere else in the world. For the majority of us, "pain" is something to be treated with analgesics; "loss" is missing out on some item on eBay; "sorrow" is what we feel at the Giants not making it to the Super Bowl; and "regret" arises from not being able to afford the latest iPhone.
So when real suffering comes to visit, we tend to be unprepared. Due to the pervasive secularization of our nation, too many of us are unaware that one of the functions of faith is to provide comfort in times of darkness. That refuge is never closed to anyone, but to make use of it, one must be aware of its availability and its power.
To one whose grip on that lifeline has slipped, revisiting the techniques for finding the sacred in the persons and things around him is of high importance.
Duyen's brilliant Rumination of a few weeks ago has been much on my mind. It's a lesson in the importance of remaining open: both to the data the world provides us, and to the needs and inputs of others. A closed eye sees not; a closed mind learns nothing.
One of the great dangers of dogma, in any field or setting, is that it closes off him who accepts it. Science is inherently hostile to dogma; the true scientist must remain open to new data at all times. That's not quite the same as saying that there are "no final answers." There is an underlying reality to all things; that reality is the final answer. But we are so constituted that we cannot know, ever, whether we've reached the final answer -- that is, the complete and absolutely accurate explanation of causes and effects -- about even the smallest of Nature's wonders. So scientists must adopt "no final answers" as a working postulate.
Believe it or not, "no final answers" has a role to play in Christianity, too.
Yes, about some things -- the subjects of the mythos -- we've been provided final answers; Christianity would hardly qualify as a religion if it didn't insist on some elements of dogma. But they're surprisingly few: the reality of God, the divinity of Christ; the reality of Christ's Resurrection and its importance to our Redemption; the binding nature of the Ten Commandments. As Chesterton and others have observed, the tininess of these theological and behavioral mandates is proof of Christianity's essential liberality. It leaves body and mind almost completely free, demanding only that we not disfigure our souls by idolatry, blasphemy, or the violation of the rights of others.
The combination of Christianity's handful of "final answers" with its great liberality on the overwhelming majority of things poses us a challenge: finding the connections between the data accessible to our senses -- including what we see of the behavior of others -- and the ultimate Reality about which Christ has told us. Physical scientists get deeper into ultimate things with every passing year. I doubt they'll ever prove that God created the Universe, but their advances in cosmology and quantum physics make it ever more difficult to dispute that a single, all-encompassing Law governs all things:
"Scientists always look for the widest, most comprehensive patterns they can find, and then they try to explain them. And they've noticed that, the wider and deeper they go, the simpler the explanations seem to get."The great discoveries of the past three centuries have all pointed toward the existence of an enormous central fact, a single law for the whole world and everything in it. All the little patterns we see in things, like legs only being so fast, or arms only being so strong, or water never rising past two-twelve Fahrenheit, are just special cases of that central law, like the differently shaped shadows a statue will cast depending on how you turn it in the sun. Does that suggest anything to you, Chris?"
It took her a moment to register the question. She began to think. He waited in silence.
A million million details. A single truth giving rise to them all. Human reason sifting the details for the patterns that hid in them. Human knowledge of the patterns accumulating over the centuries, gradually reconstructing the statue from its innumerable shadows.
"The more you know, the simpler it all gets," she whispered. "The parts might be confusing, but it's made to be understood whole." The thrill of discovery was coursing through her like an electric current. "Louis, it couldn't have happened that way by chance, could it?"
He folded his hands and looked down at them.
"Some people think it could have, Chris."
"Do you?"
"No."
"And that's religion?"
He nodded.
Belief in such a Law makes it possible, even mandatory, that a Christian search for the sacred, both in himself and in what passes around him.
To my mind, sacredness is that attribute of a thing that unites it in wholeness with all other things. When we can see a thing whole, it appears sacred and beautiful. When we must reduce it to its component parts, it loses that aura and becomes mere matter to be manipulated...unless we recultivate the sacredness of the parts in their turn.
Sacredness is innate in all things. As M. Scott Peck wrote in his path-breaking The Road Less Traveled, the central fact of existence is the oneness of all of reality. The ultimate postulate of Christian faith, that reality is what it is by God's Will and for no other reason, implies that oneness inescapably. It's there in everything around us, whether we elect to notice and acknowledge it, or not.
To him who can will himself to see the unities, the connections of each quantum of existence to every other, and thus to the central Law, the universe is suffused with sacredness. It's a kind of deliberate self-haunting: an evocation from matter and time of the Spirit that makes them possible. That evocation, and the acceptance of that Being's love, provides the only unfailing sustenance available to Man.
A few words on tangential subjects:
First, music. Sitar genius Ravi Shankar once said that music is the quickest way to reach God. His own music is redolent of that conviction. When we find great beauty in music, it's because we sense that connection; the unity and coherence of the composition express, more directly than any other art form, the application of the Law to human pleasure and uplift. By contrast, "music" that seeks to divide and degrade us is plainly an attempt to use that powerful mechanism for destruction, and should be shunned.
A couple of days ago, I revisited an old favorite piece of contemporary music: Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells. An unfortunate number of persons dismiss it as a mere firework, a showcase for Oldfield's multi-instrumental virtuosity. Yet it's much more than that. If you have the opportunity, listen to it closely, with full attention. I'd be surprised if you were to come away without the sense that a great, overarching theme had been expressed in its melodies and harmonies. My only quarrel is with its title; it should have been a Mass.
Second, fiction. I've been working on a novel for twelve years. It's hovered near completion for about nine of those years. I've agonized over why I haven't been able to complete it -- while I've concurrently completed three other novels and seventy short stories. It only occurred to me yesterday that this novel, the most ambitious of my fiction efforts, spans the full extent of my reconversion and a few years before it. Yet it bears few of the marks of that transition.
When he said that no matter what he writes, a writer is always writing about himself, Oscar Wilde was more right than wrong. A story that spans that much of its author's life must somehow be brought into harmony with his experiences, and the education he received from them, during that period. Anything less is hackwork. Now that I've grasped that, I think I might be able to finish my fictional albatross at long last.
Third, our beloved sister in Christ Elizabeth Scalia, better known on the Web as The Anchoress, has reported frequently being in great and unrelieved pain. If you pray, I entreat you to include relief for Elizabeth among your petitions to God. Yet her method of coping with her suffering is beyond exemplary, worthy of serious contemplation. Contrast her patience and perseverance with this bit of paranoid crabbiness from a Catholic religious sister.
Clearly, Elizabeth and Sister Schneiders have very different approaches to finding the sacred. Which of these strikes you as more worthy of emulation -- and why?
It's been three weeks since I last wrote one of these reflections. If you've missed them, well, God bless you, Gentle Reader. And if you haven't...well, perhaps your taste is better than mine. But in either case, there was a reason for the hiatus.
To be a Christian, one must accept certain theological propositions as facts -- the Christian mythos -- and must commit to the observance of certain behavioral norms -- the Christian ethos. The latter requirement is itself bifurcate, for Jesus has commanded us not merely to refrain from violating the original Ten Commandments, but also to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.
Most fallen-away Christians appear to have their largest difficulties with the mythos. Certainly it's in that realm that the possibilities for rational objection are most numerous. One cannot prove that God exists, nor that Jesus was His Son and fully divine in His own right. Even the Resurrection, the key miracle that animates all of Christianity, could be explained away as an elaborate fraud -- and many persons prefer that explanation to the possibility that the Son of Man really did rise from the dead. When doubt sets in, it's usually in this sphere: the domain where actual faith is required.
But "most" is not "all," nor is "usually" the same as "always." Some Christians are more severely challenged by the Commandments...and a few of us find it difficult to deal with our neighbors as Christ instructed us.
That applies to me. I'm a natural isolate: I prefer solitude and keep to myself when possible. I don't socialize. Unless I know that the caller is a family member, I don't answer the phone. It's been a long time since I felt any yearning for the company of others. It's not distaste, but a combination of laziness and a sense of unworthiness. That is, I'm averse to the effort required to interact with others, in large part because I don't believe I have anything to offer them.
Three weeks ago, that aspect of my character "crested." It left me feeling as if I should stop prattling about religious matters, as I'm so clearly a poor example of what a Christian should be.
Not much has changed since then. I still prefer solitude, and gravitate toward it when possible. I still shun most contact with others as too difficult and not really profitable for them. But it occurred to me that part of my personal ministry, to the extent that I'm permitted to know it, is these Ruminations -- that if I'm to climb back into a proper Christian neighborliness, it will probably start here. If that's the case, then to shirk this particular duty would be unacceptable. So I'm back, for whatever it's worth to anyone.
May God bless and keep you all.
Comments
I’m so happy you are back. We all need a short vacation from time to time. (I’m listening to the Tubular Bells now…
Posted by on 03/08/2009 at 12:18 PMExtraordinary Rumination, Fran. There is a lot to think about here, and I think some of the things I’ve written recently have touched on similar points.
Your last paragraphs struck me particularly. I have had an idea for a novel I’ve been kicking around for years now, and have even penned some pages to (digital) paper. I’ve never gotten around to making a serious run at it, though. Maybe I will now - I think I may have stumbled on some of the lessons and context I needed during my time at university and writing for this website to make a good go.
Thank you for the inspiration!
Posted by on 03/08/2009 at 01:39 PM#
Extraordinary Rumination, Fran. There is a lot to think about here, and I think some of the things I’ve written recently have touched on similar points.
Your last paragraphs struck me particularly. I have had an idea for a
novel I’ve been kicking around for years now, and have even penned some pages to (digital) paper. I’ve never gotten around to making a serious run at it, though. Maybe I will now - I think I may have stumbled on some of the lessons and context I needed during my time at university and writing for this website to make a good go.
Thank you for the inspiration!
See, ain’t God great!
Posted by on 03/08/2009 at 02:08 PMJeez, Flashy, you’ve got me blushing!
It’s good to see you back in the saddle, though.
Posted by Fetiche Nouvelle (Duyen Ky) on 03/08/2009 at 04:21 PMThis aethiest looks forward to your future ruminations at your personal ministry.
And if all Christians were as “poor” an example as you, I think the world would be a much better place.
Excuse me, it’s time to relisten to Tubular Bells. It’s been over a week since I last heard it. It’s something to do while I wait for your finished novel.
Posted by on 03/08/2009 at 11:07 PMChristianity is most certainly a big tent. Though it has a million rules that come from 2000 years of knuckleheads trying to bend it this way and that from Truth, there’s an infinity within them nonetheless. Like the difference between the greater infinity of the ordinal numbers and the infinity of numbers between any two ordinals.
It embraces vastly different cultures and different rites, liturgies, and practices. And it can accommodate any personality type. Not everyone is at his best thrown into the mosh, the same as not everyone is set for solitary contemplation. Some are at their best ministering to prisoners. Some as teachers. Some are prone to annoyance and anger by too much close contact to those who would pull their strings. The Church has a tradition (going back to when St. Anthony went into the Egyptian desert) for hermits and Anchorite monks.
I wrote before that a life in society that does not insist on daily sandwiching with people can still be Christian, and be mutually beneficial to all (I had the church sex scandal in mind for that, an issue that does not apply here, but the lesson holds):
http://mts1.wordpress.com/2008/12/15/contemplative-life/
and this monk has a lesson that just because someone works better off alone does not make him less Christian by following his natural need for solitude, but makes it better, and makes him love God’s people more:
http://mts1.wordpress.com/2009/01/18/monks-advice/
So Fran, don’t think your desire for a bigger space cushion between you and others is a sin in itself, for it may be what’s needed for you to flourish.
Posted by mts1 on 03/09/2009 at 12:04 AM“So I’m back, for whatever it’s worth to anyone.”
I think Scipio puts it very well in this one line motto at the top of his page:
‘writing not for fortune or fame, but because G_d is watching’
Well said, Scipio. Certain things just need to be said. It doesn’t have to be to a mass group of people, neither does it need to be said to ‘important’ people. But it DOES need to be said at the urging of that ‘something’ deep inside. As you know, in the grand scheme of things that is oftentimes beyond our ken, timing and placement is very important (which can only be seen by us through hindsight and history) - and thats up to G_d.
Perhaps thats where the urgings come from. Try not to squelch the desire, Fran.
Avalanches can happen from the most minute disturbances.
Posted by on 03/09/2009 at 04:25 AMI certainly appreciate these ruminations and they have driven me to contemplate aspects of the interior life of faith that I would not have otherwise.
Posted by on 03/09/2009 at 10:30 AMYou know, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you’ve probably affected more people’s lives by what you write here than you ever could hope to do on a face-to-face basis.
Times change. Who is to say that the concept of “neighborliness” must not change with them?
Posted by on 03/09/2009 at 12:17 PMContact with others is one of the most important things in my life. I love it. I enjoy a conversation like many enjoy a fine bottle of wine (and often, my conversations involve one).
I’ll speak of anything and everything. When I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll make it up as I go along (if you can’t win them with the facts, baffle them with bull).
I like to be in the company of others.
Most of the time.
Even the most congenial and social amongst us need “alone time” now and then. I’ve created a fortress of solitude in my basement. No windows, no television or telephone. Not even any light unless you turn the lights on. It is a true man cave.
it is filled to the brim with shotshell and rifle cartridge reloading equipment, powder, lead, shot, brass, and so forth. It also has a tying station for flies of all sorts, so that I may tie up the most recent and most popular fly to try my luck at mountain cutthroat or the Roosterfishes in Baja.
And when I’m down there, the instruction is to leave me be.
I guess my point is, Francis, that we all need that alone time, and as we work longer and harder through our lives, being forced by the demands of the day to eschew that alone time, we need more and more of it to catch up, the further through the journey we are.
It comes as no surprise that someone as intelligent as you, with opinions about the ways that things should be, and with no real prospect of having the power to make those things happen, would eventually begin to long for more alone time and solitude.
And I do not believe for a second that the Bible, or Christianity disallows that lifestyle. YOu are merely asked to love your neighbor, not go over to his house and chat him up at every opportunity. My guess is that longing for solitude or not, if your neighbor came to you with a request for help or assistance with some thing or another, you’d probably help him, wouldn’t you?
That is being christian, in my humble opinion.
Posted by on 03/09/2009 at 06:12 PMAw, great post.
(and, I will come and drag you out to play)
Posted by on 03/09/2009 at 07:07 PMIt left me feeling as if I should stop prattling about religious matters, as I’m so clearly a poor example of what a Christian should be.
Oh, good gravy—I’ll not let that pass. Your prattling is vastly appreciated, and you’re a wonderful example for all Christians. Let’s not get carried away here, okay? Your Ruminations are sorely missed by me, anyway. Glad you’re back.
Posted by Scott on 03/10/2009 at 12:59 AM
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