Religious Symbols Discussed

We should like to devote some space here to a discussion of semantics; of the rigidity of definitions, and the corresponding inflexibility of doctrines, which has given rise to so many bitter theological disputes, and even so-called holy wars. While the mystics, the true experts, of all religions have agreed that "God" is a transcendent reality which eludes classification, and which it is pointless, even ironic, to dispute, -- nevertheless, the uninspired interpreters and executives of religions continue to raise violent objections over the most insubstantial differences of doctrine.

Of course, if a Church is not somewhat clear on what it believes, it cannot get on with the business of being a Church. The same is true for individuals. Hence, it is necessary, or, at any rate, desireable, to arrive at a concensus. Even an individual must confer with himself, making the appropriate compromises among the divergent elements within himself, before he can set out in earnest upon a path. And, while it matters comparatively little which path we choose, it matters greatly that we choose; for, as wisdom states, "who attempts to follow all paths, follows none," and "a man who stands for nothing, falls for anything."

If we were lost in the wilderness, we would look for shelter. We are lost in a spiritual wilderness, and should therefore seek a spiritual shelter, -- or erect one, from existing materials, if no fitting structure can be found. There are many suitable domiciles which welcome new tenants, and many blueprints we can follow and use to create a secure structure of our own. Churches consecrated to ancient gods will serve ours just as well, but one may also wish to start from scratch.

We are not expecting to have absolute truth nailed down to a science; we merely wish to construct a mental temple, answerable to our individual needs. Walls will be blown out, additions built-on, as our needs and our means change or become apparent. It is essential, therefore, that even the firmest and most time-honored conclusions are taken to be no more than frameworks. We want the Spirit to breathe and freely move.

Terms (like "free will") should have their limits and their place. Now, there are many schemes we could lay out for consideration, and lessons we might draw, using free will as a model. I myself apply the term in a Christian context which is largely idiosyncratic; highly personal, subjective, and specific to my needs and purposes. Others are perfectly welcome to take certain aspects of my thought and weave these into their own philosophies and traditions. Unlike the magpie, they will be taking nothing from me.

Free will, like a few other big ideas, is a room with many doors, from which we can branch out into endless speculations. The point is not to pin anything down, nor to wander aimlessly, entertaining possibilities distinct and remote, but, rather, to make use of all things for the glory of God. If a perspective is helpful in elucidating a certain moral lesson, then it has served its function. It is not necessary to reapply the same perspective in an exhaustive variety of contexts, in order to make sure that it "fits" every time. We are making a meal, not feeding the world. Not yet, anyway.

So, for instance, today we might look at free will as a necessary stage of juvenile rebellion on the part of the soul, -- a need to assert independence, uniqueness, personhood. But let's say this would ultimately be going against a more central need, and a more central will,  which is to merge in one spirit and be led by something transcendent of oneself. The word "freedom" is then curious, because whether we follow God or go our own way, in either case, we can say that we are free in one respect and not in another. Like Saint Paul, we find two spirits, two wills, within us; freedom for one means bondage for the other.

((In some sense, freedom is not freedom. However many choices we may appear to have, we may only choose one thing. If I am free to go my own way, I am not free to follow God; and if I am free to follow God I am not free to go my own way. "You cannot serve both God and Mammon."))

We may consider the matter from the perspective of focus. The will responds to where we set our focus. "We covet what we see." Illusion or not, we cannot easily break the enchantment with ourselves; we continue to identify with ourselves, and to join our affections to many things, making use of many things to bolster our self-image. We are the prodigal teenagers. We can go anywhere, but we cannot go back to God; for that would be paramount to growing up; and whosoever grows up must put away childish things (in this case, all things, since one's fundamental relationship to all things is what changes). Because the enchantment with oneself is persistent, and cannot be shattered in an instant, -- at least, not by any act of will, but only by the grace of God, -- it is necessary to gradually condition the focus away from content and in the direction of essence. When we have seen essence, we have seen is-ness, and the will does not come into play; it has no application.

We use simple yet profound religious symbols, umbrella concepts, to gather together our focus from the many toward the one. We must evoke a sense of the sacred; paradoxical feelings of the heaviest darkness and the nimblest light. We must become aware of the significance of life, and of the supreme significance of the present moment. Religion is more compatible and congenial to this sense of significance than anything I know.

I believe repentance has a place, but that we ought to repent, or regret, the pollution of our focus, more than the behaviors which are only the last and least preventable consequences of losing sight of God. Shame and genuine repentance are frightening, but they are, seemingly, a necessary and inevitable part of the recovery of depth, and the realignment of focus with God. We must become disgusted with whatever takes our focus away from God.

In the early stages, only obvious crimes like rape and murder disgust us. A scoundrel does well if he merely avoids other scoundrels. But in the later stages, the merest deviation of attention from Holy Presence becomes a roadblock to spiritual progress. The sages have said that we must, in some capacity, despise our world, our families, our lives, and ourselves in order to love God. In order to acquire the compassion necessary to bring us into closer intimacy with these things, it is imperative that we first acquire detachment from them, and intimacy with God. The mystical experience of God's Love is what empowers authentic relationships on all levels. But, in order to seek God, we must become disillusioned with the world, and with our own powers to acquire goodness, wisdom, and happiness. Without our consent and willingness to receive (rather than rule), he will not, -- perhaps he cannot, -- condescend to us more than he has already done through the person of Christ and through the lives of the saints. We must turn away from the will of the flesh, which we call "free", and into the will of the spirit, which is freedom itself; in harmony with all.

And all this is accomplished by the secret ministrations and maneuverings of the grace of God within us. Our greater life, our spiritual life, is what goes on beneath the distractions of the senses and of the self. It is a life of which most men remain almost entirely ignorant. In great souls, who turn inward, away from the mad carnivals of sense and self, not only is this spiritual life perceptible, but it is the outer life which has faded into obscurity.

The question becomes, "which is the true will, the true self" and that would be the higher will and the higher Self, which we understand by the form of Jesus Christ, whose personality is primarily, if not completely, definable in terms of his having descended from God and his being dependent on God. To the extent that he is not the receptacle of graces, but the fountain of graces, not the willing servant, but the willing master, we may identify him more directly with God the Father; and this should provide insight on the Trinity, -- for, even as Christ sheds the role of Son, ever so slightly, in order to more closely characterize his intimacy with God (as actual identity with God), this is yet another way in which he retains the role of servant, of Son, because he continues to serve as an Image of God, and that is what it means to be the Son, since an image is always once-removed; the thing itself, God the Father, cannot be represented in form.

Rounding out the Trinity, or pointing it out, rather, is the symbol of the Holy Ghost, which mysteriously unites the formless with the form while maintaining an equally mysterious respect for their separateness. There is no giving without receiving; the two are part of a single process, which nonetheless depends upon the independence of its parts. The entire process is the Trinity; the giver is God the Father, the receiver is God the Son, and the relationship between them is the Holy Spirit. All three are distinctly present, but also present in one another; since the giver receives something in giving and the receiver gives something in receiving; therefore, both Father and Son contain each other, and each contains the third, -- while the third, the Holy Spirit, contains the first two, since each is ultimately defined only by its relation to the other, and this mutuality is what we interpret to be the work and substance of the Holy Spirit.

The Trinity, as a symbol, is another attempt to gather together the seemingly disparate parts of a larger idea or circumstance under a single heading, with the purpose of concentrating attention on greater unities. Whether the symbol is effective, each of us may judge independently. What we ultimately want, though, is an image utterly dense with significance. We should be able to pick it apart, for the purposes of analytical contemplation, and each part should be strikingly evocative of the most deeply significant revelations and emotions. Then, when we gather these together under a single name, or when we learn to recognize all of them, together, under each of their separate names, the intensity of the experience generated should be manifold.

The image of Christ crucified should evoke a sense of the profound significance of our ever-present choice; either to draw closer to God, or to pursue our individual aims. If we choose the former, we are among the faithful who stood by the foot of the cross, their eyes downcast into their souls, or fixed in weeping upon the Son.

If we choose the latter, we are among the persecutors of Christ. From a Christian perspective, we all belong to one body and share a responsibility to every other member of that body. Hence, all complacency is complicity. "Those who are not with me are against me." By our inattention to the spiritual dimension of life, we contribute to the condition, to the overall atmosphere, of the community, which encourages and makes possible either the acceptance or the rejection God; whether by a society, collectively, or by its members, respectively. Christ is crucified, not only by our sins, but by the lukewarmth of our virtues, as well; -- just as he is received, not only by our virtues, but by the timidity of our vices.

We ought to look upon the crucified Christ and feel a great many things -- not only admiration, gratitude, worship, love; but, also, anxiety, shame, restlessness, etc. We are still men, and are not so far beyond such things that we cannot make use of them still.

Indeed, we should be shaken to our depths. We should be existentially dislodged; dislocated with respect to our values and identities. We should tremble to think how lightly we permit ourselves to take this sacrifice, this unsurpassed exhibition of divine love, which one inspired soul has made, and which many inspired souls have since imitated in honor of him, and in honor of what he made known to the world.

At least, this is my feeling, and why I believe as I do.