[Excerpted from "Holy Obedience" by Thomas R. Kelly]
Out in front of us is the drama of men and of nations, seething, struggling, laboring, dying. Upon this tragic drama in these days our eyes are all set in anxious watchfulness and prayer. But within the silences of the souls of men an eternal drama is ever being enacted, in these days as well as in others. And on the outcome of this inner drama rests, ultimately, the outer pageant of history...
Meister Eckhart wrote: 'There are plenty to follow our Lord half-way, but not the other half. They will give up possessions, friends, and honors, but it touches them too closely to disown themselves,'...
Our churches, our meeting houses are full of such respectable and amiable people. We have plenty of Quakers to follow God the first half of the way. Many of us have become as mildly and as conventionally religious as were the church folk of three centuries ago, against whose mildness and mediocrity and passionlessness George Fox and his followers flung themselves with all the passion of a glorious and a new discovery and with all the energy of dedicated lives. In some, says William James, religion exists as a dull habit, in others as an acute fever. Religion as a dull habit is not that for which Christ lived and died.
There is a degree of holy and complete obedience and of joyful self-renunciation and of sensitive listening that is breathtaking. Difference of degree passes over into utter difference of kind...
George Fox as a youth was religious enough to meet all earthly standards and was even proposed as a student for the ministry. But the insatiable God-hunger in him drove him from such mediocrity into a passionate quest for the real whole-wheat Bread of Life. Sensible relatives told him to settle down and get married. Thinking him crazy, they took him to a doctor to have his blood let—the equivalent of being taken to a psychiatrist in these days, as are modern conscientious objectors to war in Belgium and France. Parents, if some of your children are seized with this imperative God-hunger, don't tell them to snap out of it and get a job, but carry them patiently in your love, or at least keep hands off and let the holy work of God proceed in their souls. Young people, you who have in you the stirrings of perfection, the sweet, sweet rapture of God Himself within you, be faithful to Him until the last lingering bit of self is surrendered and you are wholly God-possessed.
The life that intends to be wholly obedient, wholly submissive, wholly listening, is astonishing in its completeness. Its joys are ravishing, its peace profound, its humility the deepest, its power world-shaking, its love enveloping, its simplicity that of a trusting child. It is the life and power in which the prophets and apostles lived... It is the life and power of myriads of unknown saints through the ages...
God inflames the soul with a craving for absolute purity... No average goodness will do, no measuring of our lives by our fellows, but only a relentless, inexorable divine standard. No relatives suffice; only absolutes satisfy the soul committed to holy obedience. Absolute honesty, absolute gentleness, absolute self-control, unwearied patience and thoughtfulness in the midst of the raveling friction of home and office and school and shop... Boldly must we risk the dangers which lie along the margins of excess... For the life of obedience is a holy life, a separated life, a renounced life, cut off from worldly compromises, distinct, heaven-dedicated in the midst of men, stainless as the snows upon the mountain tops.
http://www.quaker.org/pamphlets/wpl1939a.html
----
"All we can say is, Prayer is taking place and I am given to be in its orbit. In holy hush we bow in Eternity, and know the Divine Concern tenderly enwrapping us and all things within His persuading love. Here all human initiative has passed in acquiescence, and He works and prays and seeks His own through us, in exquisite, energizing life."
~ Thomas R. Kelly
"As the experience of this inward life matured, Thomas Kelly found himself using language that would have repelled him during his years of rebellion against evangelical religion. 'Have I discovered God as a sweet Presence and a stirring life-renovating Power within me? Do I walk by His Guidance feeding every day, like the knights of the Grail on the body and the blood of Christ?' An Earlham colleague wrote of his visit there in the autumn of 1940, 'He almost startled me, and he shocked some of us who were still walking in the ways of logic and science and the flesh, by the high areas of being he had penetrated. He had returned to old symbols like the blood of Christ, that were shocking to a few of his old colleagues who had not grown and lived as he had. But he brought new meaning to all symbols, and he was to me, and to some others a prophet whose tongue had been touched by coals of fire.'"
~ from: 'A Biographical Memoir' by Douglas V. Steere
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Dependence On God
An inner light warms and pricks to life the cold, tired, congealed soul who waits attentively upon it. But what does it mean to "wait", in a spiritual sense?
To wait is, in fact, to do nothing, perchance to be obliterated.
What every soul entering the inward chambers of the spirit discovers for itself is the simple reality of God's grace; the reality that it is not the creature who prays to God, but God who prays for us in our own depths, and that our proper orientation is not to speak to him, but by him; to listen quietly for those divine stirrings which are already being offered up for us by God in the depths of our souls.
Nothing causes prayer to dry up, -- or, rather, nothing shuts our ears to the everflowing streams of prayer within, -- so quickly as the thought that one is praying and is the source of prayer.
Humility is perhaps the first condition for true receptivity, but the self-conscious conviction that the spiritual life depends upon ourselves and our own decision to respond to the inward call is born of pride. Yet, how many self-professed Christians, for all their talk of Christ, see salvation as dependent upon man; that is, upon themselves, their own choice, and on the choices of others? Far from a heroic act of free will, by which we take the kingdom by storm, and force our own will into alignment with the will of God, the authentic prayer, like the authentic conversion, is one of inaction.
There is one thing in us capable of willing what God wills for us, and that is the will of God in us. Ours is merely to submit. But can one will oneself not to will? Of course not, since that would also be an act of will. The abdication of self-will in submission to the will of God is purely the work of God. When grace does appear to be withheld, it is only the lawful result of the soul's attempt to take credit for grace. Grace is anathema to man's will, and the more one seeks to generate spiritual force by one's own volition the more spiritual force is dissipated.
How then shall we proceed? The only way we can. Stumblingly. For our will is a stumbling block, over which we continually stumble until, utterly in spite of ourselves, we fall upon our knees and into the arms of the Father.
The prerequisite for receptivity to grace is the confession of our own insufficiency. We cannot open to receive the infinite while taking pride in what is finite. All creatures are, in some sense, rebellious to the One who creates. In order to be reborn, it is first necessary to die. We must be consumed, as it were, in the flames of our own personal hell (the flames of pride), before we may rise from the ashes of humility into a new life in Jesus Christ.
To wait is, in fact, to do nothing, perchance to be obliterated.
What every soul entering the inward chambers of the spirit discovers for itself is the simple reality of God's grace; the reality that it is not the creature who prays to God, but God who prays for us in our own depths, and that our proper orientation is not to speak to him, but by him; to listen quietly for those divine stirrings which are already being offered up for us by God in the depths of our souls.
Nothing causes prayer to dry up, -- or, rather, nothing shuts our ears to the everflowing streams of prayer within, -- so quickly as the thought that one is praying and is the source of prayer.
Humility is perhaps the first condition for true receptivity, but the self-conscious conviction that the spiritual life depends upon ourselves and our own decision to respond to the inward call is born of pride. Yet, how many self-professed Christians, for all their talk of Christ, see salvation as dependent upon man; that is, upon themselves, their own choice, and on the choices of others? Far from a heroic act of free will, by which we take the kingdom by storm, and force our own will into alignment with the will of God, the authentic prayer, like the authentic conversion, is one of inaction.
There is one thing in us capable of willing what God wills for us, and that is the will of God in us. Ours is merely to submit. But can one will oneself not to will? Of course not, since that would also be an act of will. The abdication of self-will in submission to the will of God is purely the work of God. When grace does appear to be withheld, it is only the lawful result of the soul's attempt to take credit for grace. Grace is anathema to man's will, and the more one seeks to generate spiritual force by one's own volition the more spiritual force is dissipated.
How then shall we proceed? The only way we can. Stumblingly. For our will is a stumbling block, over which we continually stumble until, utterly in spite of ourselves, we fall upon our knees and into the arms of the Father.
The prerequisite for receptivity to grace is the confession of our own insufficiency. We cannot open to receive the infinite while taking pride in what is finite. All creatures are, in some sense, rebellious to the One who creates. In order to be reborn, it is first necessary to die. We must be consumed, as it were, in the flames of our own personal hell (the flames of pride), before we may rise from the ashes of humility into a new life in Jesus Christ.
Submission To The Present Moment
Whether or not all that happens is according to the will of God, it is clear that God wills for us a patient, unruffled, and selfless submission to all that happens.
It is rightly said that his will consists in neither this nor that, but in a state of self-abandonment to whatever befalls us at any given moment, provided it is the present moment; for what has gone before, however sanctifying it may have been, is no longer useful for us, and what is to come, however sanctifying it may be, is not yet of any use to us. All things which befall us, whether they be good or evil in themselves, provide the raw material for the production of more abundant good within us, if only we receive them equally, as means of practicing submission to God.
Every obstacle, every delay, every inconvenience is in fact an invitation to rejoin the present moment; for what can block our way when we ourselves are the way; what can detain us when we ourselves are the destination; and what can inconvenience us when everything we encounter may be put to higher use?
So it is that we ought not to prefer one thing to another, -- riches to poverty, health to sickness, life to death, and even good to evil, -- for holiness consists in this: complete acceptance of whatever comes as being that which is most efficacious for the development of our soul; if only because it is that alone which occupies the present moment and is, therefore, the only means of which we may make use.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Grains of Salt (excerpt)
Women have flowers. Men have women.
Milk for babes, and tears for strong men.
We cringe before the moment, and crow before eternity.
Humility works hard to satisfy its pride.
Pride covets Virtue; vanity covets her appearance.
Good men find their greatest pleasure in being virtuous,
while the rest of us find great pleasure a virtue.
We tend to lose sympathy for a man to the extent that his suffering,
having quite overwhelmed him, begins to affect ourselves.
We generally reproach a man for the immodesty of his suffering
when it is ourselves who cannot bear so much as the suggestion of it.
Though you may not always bring your imagination to life,
you may always bring life to your imagination, --
and that is the finer thing.
I give my Lord this moment, all else I leave to Him.
The earth is a part of you,
no less than the foot that walks upon it.
In fact, you would last longer without the foot.
Cynicism is the denial of hope by the fear of disappointment.
Substance is the height of style;
good form takes the form of the good.
Patience isn’t waiting for something.
Courage is ripeness of will.
A warm humor satisfies all paradoxes.
Children always think they're playing.
Wise men carve the loneliest paths;
fools are always finding each other.
Some won't drink, but want a drunk.
It is superfluous to judge a man if he is guilty in his own eyes,
and ridiculous if he is not.
The moral sense is strong in some, weak in others,
yet, even in this, the strong still persecute the weak.
Hatred of evil is the craftiest and least well-known of vices,
so easily is it mistaken for love of good.
Asking God for mercy and forgiveness is like asking the sun for light and heat; these belong to the incorruptible nature of divinity itself; and, though clouds of ignorance may cast shadows of guilt over the souls of men, the sun does not go black, nor does the Lord condemn.
In silence there is sweetness.
Words fall, and often rise, into this;
and fall back through, to rise again.
Nothing teaches, and nothing prejudices, like experience.
We walk clumsily in another man's shoes,
when we've yet to remove our own.
Dreams are the rebellion of sleep,
and stars are swords raised against a dethroned sun.
The soul is a fallen woman,
and the Lord, her unlikely suitor.
She eyes Him always with suspicion,
unable to believe that her longing
is answered by His love.
She is coy, elusive, silly.
He is sincere and devoted in pursuit.
By and by, He will win her heart,
and, with it, the dowry of the world.
In the same direction, forgiveness walks,
understanding runs, and love takes flight.
The first requirement for greatness is the audacity to be great;
one must begin upon the heights to ascend beyond the clouds.
The heart is a treasurehouse,
where the sweetest things are preserved.
Inventions are higher discoveries. --
God is our most ingenious invention,
and our highest discovery.
The bell of the world is struck
by the birth of the man, or is silent.
Every head is a headstone;
every body, a grave for restless spirits.
I am a ferment of other minds.
The view that is not represented is never assented to.
My passion is tame. It's my reason that's wild.
Every man's philosophy is his own;
it will never fit anyone so well as himself,
and, even then, it will begin to pinch.
Have you been blinded in the darkest depths?
You will be blinded in the light, as well.
Look around you now.
The nut may not fall far from the tree,
but the roots spread into eternity.
The horizon recedes on the crest of an eternal dusk.
The wisdom of the earth is lofty in the underworld.
The sins of a humble man are always before him,
therefore he judges no one; but a proud man overlooks
his own sins to look upon the sins of another.
A genius is a man who has his madness,
but whose madness does not have him.
We resent the ones
who have given us the most,
for not having given us more;
it is with them that our appetites
and expectations have been spoiled.
The world is a longing for God.
God is a furnace of mystery,
and all creation is burning with questions.
All things speak of God, but the Voice of God is Silence.
Grace is a gust of wind, prayer is a beating of wings.
Speaking well is the art of treating with equal respect
the claims of both honesty and tact.
What is good cannot be true. Only what is great can be true. Truth belongs to the heights. She is free and without purpose, because she is great, and not good; purposefulness is good, but pure being is great. A good teacher teaches with purpose, so that others may learn. But a great teacher teaches for no reason at all, and only because she is a true teacher. What is true has no purpose; this is what it means to truly "be".
Liars are always the last to hear the truths they speak.
To know an aphorism is human;
to know when to apply it, divine.
Who is more unreasonable:
the man who possesses no respect for human life,
or the man who expects it of him?
If a man is unfit to judge himself, who is fit to judge him?
A man who judges thinks he can enforce the laws of righteousness
by sacrificing the first among them.
Ask yourself if you are dreaming and, at once, you begin to awaken.
We are frequently engaged in many places at once, and present nowhere.
Our broken songs are half-composed,
and we ourselves, half-composed;
we sing ourselves,
and sing ourselves completely.
Great truths are dropped from great heights,
so they are sure to crush a few egos.
He has courage to attack who lacks courage to defend.
It is easy to disregard a man's objection, and to rise above his offense, if we consider him a simple lunatic or brute. It is only to the extent that we respect him or his opinion, that we may even be provoked by them at all. We must have some humility for our pride to be stung.
There is divinity in idealism; to have an ideal is not to be godless, --
and it is a kind of blessedness to remain faithful to one's ideal.
To admit when you are wrong,
suggests that it is not your pride
which insists on being right.
Every school should have a garden.
Every word is an Arcanum.
Reason is to revelation
what the mind is to the soul.
Reason mediates revelation:
mind mediates soul.
Form is modest, beautiful and deep, like silence.
For men of action, simplicity is character;
for men of thought, it is suicide.
The essential difference between a philosopher
and someone who is not a philosopher is this:
Both have a head full of contradictory and irreconcilable points of view,
but the philosopher knows it, -- and, beyond knowing it,
embraces this conflict as the fountainhead of creative thinking.
There is no such thing as "the last word", in wisdom, or in anything else. Even conversations continue when those who conversed have gone their separate ways. And there may be systems of philosophy, and men who claim to belong to them, but this is also a fib. No man has ever agreed on the essential points with any other man who has ever lived. Not entirely. We may have to dig for him, but we always find the individual. Though he surrender his reason to the common faith, he cannot silence the mind which whispers even out of the deep unconscious; and every mind is uniquely formed.
I’ve not chosen a religion, but I’ve tasted the many cups.
To drunkards who protest that I drink not, but merely swish and spit,
I say, “Perhaps I am a connoisseur.”
They wear crosses like anchors around their necks,
and fall on their knees like ships run aground;
their hands, joined in prayer, fork the sand:
"Lord, deliver us from oceans, though we be ships!"
There are those who see shipwrecked men,
and say, "The sea is off-limits to sensible men."
Perhaps it is so, and I would rather be senseless.
The truth of love, spoken clearly, is like a great flood, purging the land of all that is merely superficial and unrooted in the natural order. Nothing false can stand in its wake. The mouths of the foolish and the wicked are stopped, and the tides of ignorance and animosity ebb like phantoms in the morning light. Only the truth of love has this magnificent cleansing power. But it must be spoken. It must never be silent.
Silence is the wisdom of the foolish and the folly of the wise.
If fools could be silent, wisdom could speak.
That which is mortal in us is undisturbed by loud noises and harsh words. Being of the same nature as these, it will only grow louder and more harsh itself, in order to accommodate them. But that which is divine is truly delicate. The slightest noise, the merest hint of discord, is enough to dispel it. A mound of stones is not upset by a strong wind, but a mound of powder is lost in the weakest breeze. Though we may not disturb what is coarse by behaving in our usual way, we must take greater care not to disturb what is fine. So it is that we must be gentle with one another, not for the sake of what is mortal, but for the sake of what is divine.
Like a vagrant,
I fall asleep on the steps of my prayer,
and never ascend to the door of His love.
A thousand unlocked doors between us,
but I still search for a key.
To be precise, Lord, I do not believe
in the peacefulness of your kingdom,
but in the kingdom of your peace.
Fools will say that you are most yourself
when you are least in control of yourself.
The very sunlight which pours through our hands is pure gold,
and the very idea of love is love freely given.
Milk for babes, and tears for strong men.
We cringe before the moment, and crow before eternity.
Humility works hard to satisfy its pride.
Pride covets Virtue; vanity covets her appearance.
Good men find their greatest pleasure in being virtuous,
while the rest of us find great pleasure a virtue.
We tend to lose sympathy for a man to the extent that his suffering,
having quite overwhelmed him, begins to affect ourselves.
We generally reproach a man for the immodesty of his suffering
when it is ourselves who cannot bear so much as the suggestion of it.
Though you may not always bring your imagination to life,
you may always bring life to your imagination, --
and that is the finer thing.
I give my Lord this moment, all else I leave to Him.
The earth is a part of you,
no less than the foot that walks upon it.
In fact, you would last longer without the foot.
Cynicism is the denial of hope by the fear of disappointment.
Substance is the height of style;
good form takes the form of the good.
Patience isn’t waiting for something.
Courage is ripeness of will.
A warm humor satisfies all paradoxes.
Children always think they're playing.
Wise men carve the loneliest paths;
fools are always finding each other.
Some won't drink, but want a drunk.
It is superfluous to judge a man if he is guilty in his own eyes,
and ridiculous if he is not.
The moral sense is strong in some, weak in others,
yet, even in this, the strong still persecute the weak.
Hatred of evil is the craftiest and least well-known of vices,
so easily is it mistaken for love of good.
Asking God for mercy and forgiveness is like asking the sun for light and heat; these belong to the incorruptible nature of divinity itself; and, though clouds of ignorance may cast shadows of guilt over the souls of men, the sun does not go black, nor does the Lord condemn.
In silence there is sweetness.
Words fall, and often rise, into this;
and fall back through, to rise again.
Nothing teaches, and nothing prejudices, like experience.
We walk clumsily in another man's shoes,
when we've yet to remove our own.
Dreams are the rebellion of sleep,
and stars are swords raised against a dethroned sun.
The soul is a fallen woman,
and the Lord, her unlikely suitor.
She eyes Him always with suspicion,
unable to believe that her longing
is answered by His love.
She is coy, elusive, silly.
He is sincere and devoted in pursuit.
By and by, He will win her heart,
and, with it, the dowry of the world.
In the same direction, forgiveness walks,
understanding runs, and love takes flight.
The first requirement for greatness is the audacity to be great;
one must begin upon the heights to ascend beyond the clouds.
The heart is a treasurehouse,
where the sweetest things are preserved.
Inventions are higher discoveries. --
God is our most ingenious invention,
and our highest discovery.
The bell of the world is struck
by the birth of the man, or is silent.
Every head is a headstone;
every body, a grave for restless spirits.
I am a ferment of other minds.
The view that is not represented is never assented to.
My passion is tame. It's my reason that's wild.
Every man's philosophy is his own;
it will never fit anyone so well as himself,
and, even then, it will begin to pinch.
Have you been blinded in the darkest depths?
You will be blinded in the light, as well.
Look around you now.
The nut may not fall far from the tree,
but the roots spread into eternity.
The horizon recedes on the crest of an eternal dusk.
The wisdom of the earth is lofty in the underworld.
The sins of a humble man are always before him,
therefore he judges no one; but a proud man overlooks
his own sins to look upon the sins of another.
A genius is a man who has his madness,
but whose madness does not have him.
We resent the ones
who have given us the most,
for not having given us more;
it is with them that our appetites
and expectations have been spoiled.
The world is a longing for God.
God is a furnace of mystery,
and all creation is burning with questions.
All things speak of God, but the Voice of God is Silence.
Grace is a gust of wind, prayer is a beating of wings.
Speaking well is the art of treating with equal respect
the claims of both honesty and tact.
What is good cannot be true. Only what is great can be true. Truth belongs to the heights. She is free and without purpose, because she is great, and not good; purposefulness is good, but pure being is great. A good teacher teaches with purpose, so that others may learn. But a great teacher teaches for no reason at all, and only because she is a true teacher. What is true has no purpose; this is what it means to truly "be".
Liars are always the last to hear the truths they speak.
To know an aphorism is human;
to know when to apply it, divine.
Who is more unreasonable:
the man who possesses no respect for human life,
or the man who expects it of him?
If a man is unfit to judge himself, who is fit to judge him?
A man who judges thinks he can enforce the laws of righteousness
by sacrificing the first among them.
Ask yourself if you are dreaming and, at once, you begin to awaken.
We are frequently engaged in many places at once, and present nowhere.
Our broken songs are half-composed,
and we ourselves, half-composed;
we sing ourselves,
and sing ourselves completely.
Great truths are dropped from great heights,
so they are sure to crush a few egos.
He has courage to attack who lacks courage to defend.
It is easy to disregard a man's objection, and to rise above his offense, if we consider him a simple lunatic or brute. It is only to the extent that we respect him or his opinion, that we may even be provoked by them at all. We must have some humility for our pride to be stung.
There is divinity in idealism; to have an ideal is not to be godless, --
and it is a kind of blessedness to remain faithful to one's ideal.
To admit when you are wrong,
suggests that it is not your pride
which insists on being right.
Every school should have a garden.
Every word is an Arcanum.
Reason is to revelation
what the mind is to the soul.
Reason mediates revelation:
mind mediates soul.
Form is modest, beautiful and deep, like silence.
For men of action, simplicity is character;
for men of thought, it is suicide.
The essential difference between a philosopher
and someone who is not a philosopher is this:
Both have a head full of contradictory and irreconcilable points of view,
but the philosopher knows it, -- and, beyond knowing it,
embraces this conflict as the fountainhead of creative thinking.
There is no such thing as "the last word", in wisdom, or in anything else. Even conversations continue when those who conversed have gone their separate ways. And there may be systems of philosophy, and men who claim to belong to them, but this is also a fib. No man has ever agreed on the essential points with any other man who has ever lived. Not entirely. We may have to dig for him, but we always find the individual. Though he surrender his reason to the common faith, he cannot silence the mind which whispers even out of the deep unconscious; and every mind is uniquely formed.
I’ve not chosen a religion, but I’ve tasted the many cups.
To drunkards who protest that I drink not, but merely swish and spit,
I say, “Perhaps I am a connoisseur.”
They wear crosses like anchors around their necks,
and fall on their knees like ships run aground;
their hands, joined in prayer, fork the sand:
"Lord, deliver us from oceans, though we be ships!"
There are those who see shipwrecked men,
and say, "The sea is off-limits to sensible men."
Perhaps it is so, and I would rather be senseless.
The truth of love, spoken clearly, is like a great flood, purging the land of all that is merely superficial and unrooted in the natural order. Nothing false can stand in its wake. The mouths of the foolish and the wicked are stopped, and the tides of ignorance and animosity ebb like phantoms in the morning light. Only the truth of love has this magnificent cleansing power. But it must be spoken. It must never be silent.
Silence is the wisdom of the foolish and the folly of the wise.
If fools could be silent, wisdom could speak.
That which is mortal in us is undisturbed by loud noises and harsh words. Being of the same nature as these, it will only grow louder and more harsh itself, in order to accommodate them. But that which is divine is truly delicate. The slightest noise, the merest hint of discord, is enough to dispel it. A mound of stones is not upset by a strong wind, but a mound of powder is lost in the weakest breeze. Though we may not disturb what is coarse by behaving in our usual way, we must take greater care not to disturb what is fine. So it is that we must be gentle with one another, not for the sake of what is mortal, but for the sake of what is divine.
Like a vagrant,
I fall asleep on the steps of my prayer,
and never ascend to the door of His love.
A thousand unlocked doors between us,
but I still search for a key.
To be precise, Lord, I do not believe
in the peacefulness of your kingdom,
but in the kingdom of your peace.
Fools will say that you are most yourself
when you are least in control of yourself.
The very sunlight which pours through our hands is pure gold,
and the very idea of love is love freely given.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Crisis of Faith
What an uttery mockery our worship has become! We turn away from God, who is within, in order to praise him outwardly. Truly, it is not God whom we praise thusly, but a false spectre, made in the image of man to flatter man.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A Prayer For Prayer
My Dear Lord Christ, I knock as a prodigal and a stranger at the door of my own heart, where your Holy Family resides, remembering the sweet words which the Father, by His Spirit, has spoken to you, and you to me; that I also may speak them, and gain admittance therein.
'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'
Pardon my long absence, Lord, and have mercy on a sinner who has strayed so far from his own front door. I have learned strange, angry, unholy languages, and all but forgotten my native tongue. Help me, My Own Jesus, to remember where I come from; for I have taken on airs, and denied my humble origins. Let me put off these rings and accessories, and be ornamented in God's pure light. Show me how to rend my stately robes to make a cassock, strait and plain.
Sweet Christ, uphold my prayer! Gather all my strength into a single point, and let not my thoughts sink for a moment back into aimless disarray. Dear Angels, intervene! How swiftly might your wings carry me to the Heart of Jesus, the heart of my heart. Blessed Mother, guide me in spite of my reluctance. Holy Spirit, you are subtle; slip as a thief into my innermost chamber, and leave me not outside.
Feeble is my prayer, but boundless is the vigor of your grace, Dear Christ. By my own power, I cannot so much as lift my eyes from the dirt; how shall I see that all the world is funeral ash in the immolation of Love's emergence? You must grant me your eternal vision, O Lord; what is highest and best must be seen to eclipse all created things. I know that this is also your prayer for me.
Uphold this soul in worship; let me not forget my place. All glories flow from you, and ebb back to you, My God! All that can be praised is but an infinitesimal adjunct of your infinite goodness, Lord; yet, every little note of praise undoubtedly reaches and pleases you, for it comes from you.
Jesus, let not the devil deflect my prayer! I know the weariness and restlessness which hamper my best efforts are vestiges of evil. How shall I make use of more prosaic terms, when speaking of the war which a man's higher and lower natures wage against one another? It is a civil war, which does not draw a line of division through a nation, but right through the soul of every individual, wherever he is located. It is that upon which the very meaning and value of every life depends.
Hold me up, Lord, in the grace which levitates the elect, and offers a hand to all that is falling, fallen, broken, or out of body. Christ, you are my hope, my compass, my beacon, my savior, my refuge. When you are out of my thoughts it seems you do not exist, but when grace illumines my mind it seems you are all that exists. My Sweet Jesus, I will call you in ten-thousand ways, and ten-thousand times in every way, until your grace penetrates my stubborn will and finally conforms me to the will of God.
You are My Lover, My Master, My Teacher, My Brother, My Truth. You are male or female, light or dark, earth or sky, close or far, in glory or in chains -- depending on the subtle requirements of the moment. Letter becomes Spirit; words and images become metaphors, while metaphors become supple, liquid, unable to hold their shape in the higher realms of contemplation. All that can be said is water mingling with water. Meaning is ephemeral. Realization lasts but a moment. What is eternal cannot be turned over. My God, when I think you are this, you have already become that!
Hold me up, once more, My Lord! Sparkle like sunlight through a green mind. Tickle my thoughts like wind in the leaves. Bless my fine intentions; carry them safely to the holy shore. O My God, how I long to sing a new and wonderful song of praise to you! My limbs, despite their ignorance of the steps, carry me up, and already I am dancing to an unknown melody. My eyes are gazing upward to reflect a light they cannot see. My heart would leap through your embrace directly into your bosom, Lord!
Shall I cease my prayer, when I am given light? Have I accomplished what I intended? God forbid! When my heart's one true desire is to be eternally united with Love! I shall not stop, but be encouraged to renew my strength; to breathe and bear-up. Grace is a gust of wind, prayer is a beating of wings; therefore, let me not be like the gull who drifts on a lucky gust of wind, but like the eagle who beats her wings most vigorously precisely when the wind uplifts her, that she may reach still greater heights. My Holy Spirit, I come not only to bask, but to make use of your grace, for such is the quality of grace which you have given me. I thank you, Lord, and bless you (as quaint as this may sound), for you have not placed the pen in my hand without placing my hand in yours; you have not given me gifts without giving me the will -- your own will -- to use them.
Gentle Lord, come to me in whatever form I may recieve you, for your creative power is inexhaustible, while my mind is narrow and easily bored. Send to me the Blessed Virgin, with a train of many angels in toe. Let her soft gaze cool my brow, after I have stood beneath the cross and sweated from the heat of your sad and serious eye. Send me flowers when I forget them; a staff when I should stand; a sword when I should lay it down. Provide what is needful for the moment, and always open my eyes to the gifts which you continually set before me.
Take care to keep me humble, Lord, -- or make me so; for I am not. Lead me, lest I wander and not recover the way. Teach me to see that, if ever I grow puffed-up with all my praying, then it is no longer prayer, but an invocation of another kind which fills my pages and gathers force. Bring me to my senses, Lord; for, surely, arrogance is madness of a most deplorable kind. Resurrect me, Jesus, from the pit of pride; from a fate less dignified than death. If I make so poor a use of prayer, then let this gift be taken from me. My God, My God, I place my trust in you!
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, may your name be honored until the end of the world, for it is the treasure of the world. Amen
'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'
Pardon my long absence, Lord, and have mercy on a sinner who has strayed so far from his own front door. I have learned strange, angry, unholy languages, and all but forgotten my native tongue. Help me, My Own Jesus, to remember where I come from; for I have taken on airs, and denied my humble origins. Let me put off these rings and accessories, and be ornamented in God's pure light. Show me how to rend my stately robes to make a cassock, strait and plain.
Sweet Christ, uphold my prayer! Gather all my strength into a single point, and let not my thoughts sink for a moment back into aimless disarray. Dear Angels, intervene! How swiftly might your wings carry me to the Heart of Jesus, the heart of my heart. Blessed Mother, guide me in spite of my reluctance. Holy Spirit, you are subtle; slip as a thief into my innermost chamber, and leave me not outside.
Feeble is my prayer, but boundless is the vigor of your grace, Dear Christ. By my own power, I cannot so much as lift my eyes from the dirt; how shall I see that all the world is funeral ash in the immolation of Love's emergence? You must grant me your eternal vision, O Lord; what is highest and best must be seen to eclipse all created things. I know that this is also your prayer for me.
Uphold this soul in worship; let me not forget my place. All glories flow from you, and ebb back to you, My God! All that can be praised is but an infinitesimal adjunct of your infinite goodness, Lord; yet, every little note of praise undoubtedly reaches and pleases you, for it comes from you.
Jesus, let not the devil deflect my prayer! I know the weariness and restlessness which hamper my best efforts are vestiges of evil. How shall I make use of more prosaic terms, when speaking of the war which a man's higher and lower natures wage against one another? It is a civil war, which does not draw a line of division through a nation, but right through the soul of every individual, wherever he is located. It is that upon which the very meaning and value of every life depends.
Hold me up, Lord, in the grace which levitates the elect, and offers a hand to all that is falling, fallen, broken, or out of body. Christ, you are my hope, my compass, my beacon, my savior, my refuge. When you are out of my thoughts it seems you do not exist, but when grace illumines my mind it seems you are all that exists. My Sweet Jesus, I will call you in ten-thousand ways, and ten-thousand times in every way, until your grace penetrates my stubborn will and finally conforms me to the will of God.
You are My Lover, My Master, My Teacher, My Brother, My Truth. You are male or female, light or dark, earth or sky, close or far, in glory or in chains -- depending on the subtle requirements of the moment. Letter becomes Spirit; words and images become metaphors, while metaphors become supple, liquid, unable to hold their shape in the higher realms of contemplation. All that can be said is water mingling with water. Meaning is ephemeral. Realization lasts but a moment. What is eternal cannot be turned over. My God, when I think you are this, you have already become that!
Hold me up, once more, My Lord! Sparkle like sunlight through a green mind. Tickle my thoughts like wind in the leaves. Bless my fine intentions; carry them safely to the holy shore. O My God, how I long to sing a new and wonderful song of praise to you! My limbs, despite their ignorance of the steps, carry me up, and already I am dancing to an unknown melody. My eyes are gazing upward to reflect a light they cannot see. My heart would leap through your embrace directly into your bosom, Lord!
Shall I cease my prayer, when I am given light? Have I accomplished what I intended? God forbid! When my heart's one true desire is to be eternally united with Love! I shall not stop, but be encouraged to renew my strength; to breathe and bear-up. Grace is a gust of wind, prayer is a beating of wings; therefore, let me not be like the gull who drifts on a lucky gust of wind, but like the eagle who beats her wings most vigorously precisely when the wind uplifts her, that she may reach still greater heights. My Holy Spirit, I come not only to bask, but to make use of your grace, for such is the quality of grace which you have given me. I thank you, Lord, and bless you (as quaint as this may sound), for you have not placed the pen in my hand without placing my hand in yours; you have not given me gifts without giving me the will -- your own will -- to use them.
Gentle Lord, come to me in whatever form I may recieve you, for your creative power is inexhaustible, while my mind is narrow and easily bored. Send to me the Blessed Virgin, with a train of many angels in toe. Let her soft gaze cool my brow, after I have stood beneath the cross and sweated from the heat of your sad and serious eye. Send me flowers when I forget them; a staff when I should stand; a sword when I should lay it down. Provide what is needful for the moment, and always open my eyes to the gifts which you continually set before me.
Take care to keep me humble, Lord, -- or make me so; for I am not. Lead me, lest I wander and not recover the way. Teach me to see that, if ever I grow puffed-up with all my praying, then it is no longer prayer, but an invocation of another kind which fills my pages and gathers force. Bring me to my senses, Lord; for, surely, arrogance is madness of a most deplorable kind. Resurrect me, Jesus, from the pit of pride; from a fate less dignified than death. If I make so poor a use of prayer, then let this gift be taken from me. My God, My God, I place my trust in you!
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, may your name be honored until the end of the world, for it is the treasure of the world. Amen
Friday, May 18, 2012
Addicted To Love (or Venus In Retrograde)
In the later stages of addiction, one no longer takes the drug to get high, but to feel "normal"; not to withdraw. Love being one of the more common drugs, we can often observe this principle fairly clearly in relationships.
The sweet words, affectionate carresses, kind gestures, and warm attentions -- these all become background noise for a time, until, spurned and neglected, they are withdrawn; and then it is we who begin to withdraw, as addicts do. Only then do we feel what they meant to us. And when we reclaim them, if ever we do, it is with a new appreciation, which even extends backwards to what has gone before, as if to settle the old debts.
This cycle is played out innumerable times in personal relationships before it is translated entirely into the spiritual realm, where, even then, it continues for some time before the soul can be carved into an easy channel for love; before one can learn to hold it and let it go, like water through a cleft, or sunlight between fingers.
God, too, gives more love than we can appreciate, or appraise, yet His love is never withdrawn; it only appears so to us, for we have neglected it so long, and forgotten how to weigh it; like men who trade gold and silver as though it were iron and tin, wondering all the time where the precious metals have gone.
If we saw, just once, the real value of love, we would see that it is all around; for it would never leave our thoughts, but would send roots into the deepest and hardest soil of our hearts, until it produced an abundance of leaves, flowers, and fruits inside and all around us.
We do not see that the very sunlight which pours through our hands is pure gold, and the very idea of love is love freely given.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Intelligible Forms
Humility is perhaps composed of equal parts guilt and gratitude; gratitude for the mercy poured out so freely by Love, without regard to differences among persons. Some argue that one must recognize one's sinfulness, or wretchedness (a lovely word), in order to recognize the sublime beauty and significance of God's love. I begin to suspect that the opposite method may not only be just as effective, but that it is almost more of an end than a means; that this recognition of sin is a natural response to the contemplation of love, at least, in the early stages (and who do we know who is not in the early stages?). We already live in our wretchedness, and to be lifted up into the contemplation of love is necessarily to test our wings, to feel palpably their weakness, and to fall back down upon our knees. Yet, only this excercise will carry us into the heights, where we shall no longer repent according to our weakness, but revel according to our strength. So long as we are earthbound, we will be conscious of our sin only when we attempt to rise above it. Repentance is not something we ought to seek nor cultivate, for it arises without effort when we contemplate what is above us, just like the stench of sweat rises from the pores of a man unaccustomed to physical activity. Guilt and the consciousness of guilt are the sweat and the stench of spiritual exercise.
To miss the mark, or to sin, is to be removed, or rather to perceive oneself as removed, from that universal center -- in oneself, in others, in God, in all things and in between them -- which is LOVE. Once one is removed, or believes one is removed, from this center, nothing one does can be according to the will of God; nor can anything done apart from Love be preserved. The twin delusions of separation and guilt stem from the more fundamental delusion that love is not sufficient.
The Infinite has made level all created things, so that there is not one stone left standing upon another. No man stands higher than any other, for even the cruellest sinner and the gentlest saint are indistinguishable before the majesty of God, which confounds all measure. Christ himself is not above us, lest we mistake him. To perceive him is also to be on a level with him, and to be one with him. The creation itself, and the creature along with it, is consumed in the furnace of the Infinite, and only Christ is left; one no longer exists to perceive, but has become united with the object of perception; uncreated, immaculate, complete.
Thinking And Doing
"Their rest is more beneficial than others' works." ~ Meister Eckhart
Generally speaking, whenever a distinction is made between Thinkers and Doers, or whenever these two types are discussed, there tends to be a tacit assumption that what the Doer is doing is the very thing which the Thinker is "merely" thinking about. In fact, far more often than not, Doers are, grudgingly or enthusiastically, engaged in the most mindless, pointless, ephemeral, and destructive of behaviors. It is precisely the awareness of this fact which sets the thinker apart, and sets his thoughts in motion.
Generally speaking, whenever a distinction is made between Thinkers and Doers, or whenever these two types are discussed, there tends to be a tacit assumption that what the Doer is doing is the very thing which the Thinker is "merely" thinking about. In fact, far more often than not, Doers are, grudgingly or enthusiastically, engaged in the most mindless, pointless, ephemeral, and destructive of behaviors. It is precisely the awareness of this fact which sets the thinker apart, and sets his thoughts in motion.
While men of action -- particularly, those most characteristic of the type; the extreme ones, who are nearly all action and almost no thought, -- are concerned primarily with what comes into direct contact with their senses, men of thought are concerned primarily with what comes into contact with their hearts and minds. This naturally involves them in a wider sphere of activity (and, yes, we may confidently refer to it as "activity"; notwithstanding the fact that it is activity on the mental plane, and, therefore, of a more nuanced type).
Where a man's senses end, his thoughts may yet take flight; -- and, covering much ground, possess a bird's eye view of the more indirect consequences of those actions which would otherwise have been performed within a severely limited range of awareness.
In fact, the sphere of action is effectively enlarged by thought; for one who thinks also acts with concern for the wider ramifications of actions; and this intentionality works to bind, with ties of responsibility, even the more indirect consequences of an action to its source in human volition; essentially enlarging the sphere of action.
What we call a man's "inner world" is not smaller than what we call his "outer world". On the contrary, his outer world extends only as far as his legs and available modes of transportation may carry him; but his thoughts extend into space and time, and even pierce the veil of sense, to take hold of eternal objects; insights, principles, sentiments, and transpersonal passions.
Moreover, they examine the sensory objects before them from odd and unanticipated angles, and come to relate all things to one another, by a remarkably intricate web of associations. There is nothing solid which does not contain some hollow wherein mystery hides, and nothing is so stable that it may not unexpectedly explode into a symphony of meanings and correspondences.
The man of thought is not removed from the world; rather, he is almost smothered by it; for it gags him like a thick atmosphere, which penetrates his blood and brain, and finally chokes his mind with realizations of itself. Far from keeping the world at arm's length, he is intoxicated with it; his arms are by his sides, that his thoughts may embrace all things. But the active type, with all his empty busyness, is jerking his limbs about and scattering the smoke of being, in an attempt to remain unaltered, unconscious, and aloof.
The Proposal
How close will you reign in your soul
It seems to me only a god would stop
How deep will you drink of this love
Before you yourself dismiss the cup
How long will you stare and soak up
The tender moonlight with your eye
How long before you turn away
To something without life
God has given all you ask
Every law has long been writ
It is for you to read the word
And discover every gift
A host of treasures unforseen
Love waits in silence to disclose
The sweetness of a soul at peace
And of a heart to rest disposed
Grace transcendant showers down
But who can well perceive the flood
We struggle blindly and deny
That all the world is full of good
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
To Worship
[This poem is dedicated to Sri Ramakrishna, who focused much of his teaching on reconciling or putting to rest many superficial points of contention between religious people of different orientations and backgrounds. Also, to Jesus, my primary teacher, or "chosen ideal". (Incidentally, or perhaps significantly, there are thirteen verses; the number traditionally associated with Christ, - there being twelve disciples, and Christ.)
Come if you have Faith
Come if you have None
Play here as a little child
of the Moon or of the Sun
Enter as a friend of Nature
Or of the Nameless Other
Sit without regard to sect
For every man's a brother
Observe the icon on the altar
Or the Light around it shown
Honor God as flesh and spirit
Or symbol for the great unknown
Be strict or full of mercy
Be sober or a sign of mirth
Mindful of your close encounters
Or of an infinite rebirth
Come with eyes and heart downcast
Or lifted up to greet the height
Hold your hands in formal prayer
Or lay them down if that feels right
Keep your visions under lock
Or else distribute them at will
Pray in secret if it suits you
Or like a castle on a hill
Come if you have None
Play here as a little child
of the Moon or of the Sun
Enter as a friend of Nature
Or of the Nameless Other
Sit without regard to sect
For every man's a brother
Observe the icon on the altar
Or the Light around it shown
Honor God as flesh and spirit
Or symbol for the great unknown
Be strict or full of mercy
Be sober or a sign of mirth
Mindful of your close encounters
Or of an infinite rebirth
Come with eyes and heart downcast
Or lifted up to greet the height
Hold your hands in formal prayer
Or lay them down if that feels right
Keep your visions under lock
Or else distribute them at will
Pray in secret if it suits you
Or like a castle on a hill
Take your place in perfect silence
Or stand and sing a heartfelt hymn
Listen for the pastor's wisdom
Or a wise voice from within
To show respect for hallow'd ground
Remove the cover from your head
Or if it serves your spirit more
Put on a certain cap instead
Hold the churches sacrosanct
As man's God-given homes
Or as no more nor less divine
Than any place a pilgrim roams
Let thy mind be free of care
Resting with Eternal Night
Or else invested and astonished
By virtue of Supernal Light
Come to celebrate the moment
Come to glimpse the life in store
To meditate on timeless matters
Or all that's come and gone before
Trust in every sturdy verse
And honor what is aptly told
Or in the heart that subtly interprets
Truths no mortal tongue can hold
Be led to worship by a whirlwind
Or by a small and simple sound
It makes the merest difference really
Just as long as you come ‘round
Or stand and sing a heartfelt hymn
Listen for the pastor's wisdom
Or a wise voice from within
To show respect for hallow'd ground
Remove the cover from your head
Or if it serves your spirit more
Put on a certain cap instead
Hold the churches sacrosanct
As man's God-given homes
Or as no more nor less divine
Than any place a pilgrim roams
Let thy mind be free of care
Resting with Eternal Night
Or else invested and astonished
By virtue of Supernal Light
Come to celebrate the moment
Come to glimpse the life in store
To meditate on timeless matters
Or all that's come and gone before
Trust in every sturdy verse
And honor what is aptly told
Or in the heart that subtly interprets
Truths no mortal tongue can hold
Be led to worship by a whirlwind
Or by a small and simple sound
It makes the merest difference really
Just as long as you come ‘round
'KIERKEGAARD AND NIETZSCHE' An Essay by Karl Jaspers (excerpt)
In every generation there are two or three who are sacrificed for the others, who discover in frightful suffering what others shall profit by... When, in a generation, a thunderstorm begins to threaten, individuals like me appear.
~ Soren Kierkegaard
If my lectures do not come even close to satisfying these demands, it is still essential that the ideal of one's concerns be recognized. One can take courage to try to do that which passes beyond his strength from the fact that it is a human problem, and man is that creature which poses problems beyond his powers. And also from this, that whoever even once thought he heard softly the authentic philosophic note, can never tire of trying to communicate it...
Nietzsche wanted to 'awaken the highest suspicion against himself', explaining that 'to the humanity of a teacher belongs the duty of warning his students against himself'.
Nietzsche knew himself to be an exception, spoke 'in favor of the exception, so long as it never wants to become the rule'. He required of the philosopher 'that he take care of the rule, since he is the exception.'
This exceptionality, which was as excruciating to them as it was the unique requirement of their problem, they characterized -- and here again they agree -- as pure mentality, as though they were deprived of any authentic life. Kierkegaard said that he was 'in almost every physical respect deprived of the conditions for being a whole man.' He had never lived except as mind. He had never been a man: at very most, child and youth. He lacked 'the animal side of humanity'. His melancholy carried him almost to the 'edge of imbecility' and was 'something that he could conceal as long as he was independent, but made him useless for any service where he could not himself determine everything'.
Nietzsche experienced his own pure mentality as 'through excess of light, through his radiance, condemned to be, not to love,'. He expressed it convulsively in the 'Nightsong' of Zarathustra: 'Light I am; ah! would that I were NIGHT!... I live in my own light...'
Nietzsche compared himself to a fir tree on the heights overlooking an abyss: 'Lonely! Who dares to be a guest here? Perhaps a bird of prey, gloating in the hair of the branches....'. And Kierkegaard: 'Like a lonely fir tree, egotistically isolated, looking toward something higher, I stand alone, throwing no shadow, only the wood dove building its nest in my branches.'
Nietzsche compared himself to the 'scratchings which an unknown power makes on paper, in order to test a new pen'.
The positive value of his illness is his standing problem.
Kierkegaard thought he indeed 'would be erased by God's mighty hand, extinguished as an unsuccessful experiment.'... He felt like an 'interjection in speaking, without influence upon the sentence.'
In great contrast to the abandonment, failure, and contingency of their existence, was the growing consciousness in the course of their lives of the meaning, sense, and necessity of all that happened to them.
Kierkegaard called it Providence. He recognized the divine in it: 'That everything that happens, is said, goes on, and so forth, is portentious: the factual continually changes itself to mean something far higher.' The factual, for him, is not something to abstract oneself from, but rather something to be penetrated until God himself gives the meaning. Even what he himself did became clear to him only later. It was 'the extra which I do not owe to myself but to Providence. It shows itself continually in such a fashion that even what I do out of the greatest possible conviction, afterwards I understand far better,'.
Nietzsche called it Chance. And he was concerned to use chance. For him 'sublime chance' ruled existence. 'The man of highest spirituality and power feels himself grown for every chance, but also inside a snowfall of contingencies,'. But this contingency increasingly took on, for Nietzsche, a remarkable meaning: 'What you call chance -- you yourself are that which befalls and astonishes you,'. Throughout his life, he found intimations of how chance events which were of the greatest importance to him carried a secret meaning, and in the end he wrote: 'There is no more chance,'.
~ Karl Jaspers ('Kierkegaard And Nietzsche')
The Holy Longing
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Tell a wise person or else keep silent
For the everyman will mock it right away.
I praise what is truly alive
And what longs to be burned to death.
In the calm waters of the love nights
Where you were begotten,
Where you have begotten,
A strange feeling comes over you
When you see the silent candle burning.
Now you are no longer caught in this obsession with darkness
And a desire for higher lovemaking sweeps you upward.
Distance does not make you falter.
And now, arriving in magic, flying
and finally, insane for the light
You are the butterfly.
And you are gone.
And so long as you haven't experienced this,
To die and so to grow,
You are only a troubled guest on a dark earth.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Industrialized Society and The Virtue of Laziness
Endless production, quantity before quality, all of us busily draining the third-world of its resources for the sake of crap we don't need and have no place for... The pollution of the waters, the depletion of the soil, the illusion of dispossal, the band-aid that is recycling... In such a world, laziness might even be counted a virtue, and industriousness a vice.
The true sources of social ills are systemic, rooted in our largest, most ungainly, and most staunchly embedded institutions; none of which have our best interests at heart, but all of which were designed to localize wealth and to preserve themselves, -- that is, the status quo. Is it any wonder that our institutions, governments, and Western Civilization itself have all taken on a life of their own, when everyone is encouraged not to take their eyes off their "own" work; and definitely not to look at the bigger picture (including the wider consequences of "their" work)?
If we defend these structures, and believe they are benign, it is only because we suffer from a kind of Stockholm Syndrome, which leads us to identify with the very principles and conditions which inhibit or prevent our escape from the condition of wage-slavery. For many people, the knowledge of their condition is too burdensome to bear, and, since they harbor no hope of ever changing it, pure survival instinct impels them to think well of it, and to think of themselves as good citizens, for having submitted, often enthusiastically, to the demands made on them. (Naturally, the whole culture helps to fan this "pride of accomplishment", while discouraging any in-depth inquiry into the actuality of what is being accomplished.) Rather than frustrate themselves, -- or worse, risk madness, -- by imagining a better world, they clip the wings of their imaginations, and tell themselves the culture they are living in is not only inescapable and unalterable, but, that it is, in fact, the real and only world; that, to see beyond it, or to imagine one sees beyond it, is simply a form of utopian escapism and denial. Of course, men have been telling themselves that ever since they invented culture.
Nietzsche summed up the cult of industry thus: "ye put up with yourselves badly; your diligence is flight, and the will to self-forgetfulness... for waiting, ye have not enough of capacity in you - nor even for idling!"
We would do well to remember that Hitler, had he possessed a greater capacity for idling, and been more lazy than ambitious, would have made no hate speeches, commissioned the construction of no tanks or bombers, invaded no countries, and put no millions to death. On the contrary, he might have spent his days admiring the flowers, reflecting on the clouds, and discovering what a vain exercise conquest is.
People forget that work for work's sake is not a virtue. If one is working in the wrong direction, then it is a even a vice; and the harder one works, the more of a vice it is.
Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, rightly states that we are always being prompted to do something, "'The world is on fire. Don't just sit there; do something.' But many of us have been doing many things, and the world continues to be burned. Perhaps it is because we have forgotten the art of stopping. So I say, Don't just do something; sit there. Sit there, in order for peace to be possible."
Is this really so hard to understand?
The true sources of social ills are systemic, rooted in our largest, most ungainly, and most staunchly embedded institutions; none of which have our best interests at heart, but all of which were designed to localize wealth and to preserve themselves, -- that is, the status quo. Is it any wonder that our institutions, governments, and Western Civilization itself have all taken on a life of their own, when everyone is encouraged not to take their eyes off their "own" work; and definitely not to look at the bigger picture (including the wider consequences of "their" work)?
If we defend these structures, and believe they are benign, it is only because we suffer from a kind of Stockholm Syndrome, which leads us to identify with the very principles and conditions which inhibit or prevent our escape from the condition of wage-slavery. For many people, the knowledge of their condition is too burdensome to bear, and, since they harbor no hope of ever changing it, pure survival instinct impels them to think well of it, and to think of themselves as good citizens, for having submitted, often enthusiastically, to the demands made on them. (Naturally, the whole culture helps to fan this "pride of accomplishment", while discouraging any in-depth inquiry into the actuality of what is being accomplished.) Rather than frustrate themselves, -- or worse, risk madness, -- by imagining a better world, they clip the wings of their imaginations, and tell themselves the culture they are living in is not only inescapable and unalterable, but, that it is, in fact, the real and only world; that, to see beyond it, or to imagine one sees beyond it, is simply a form of utopian escapism and denial. Of course, men have been telling themselves that ever since they invented culture.
Nietzsche summed up the cult of industry thus: "ye put up with yourselves badly; your diligence is flight, and the will to self-forgetfulness... for waiting, ye have not enough of capacity in you - nor even for idling!"
We would do well to remember that Hitler, had he possessed a greater capacity for idling, and been more lazy than ambitious, would have made no hate speeches, commissioned the construction of no tanks or bombers, invaded no countries, and put no millions to death. On the contrary, he might have spent his days admiring the flowers, reflecting on the clouds, and discovering what a vain exercise conquest is.
People forget that work for work's sake is not a virtue. If one is working in the wrong direction, then it is a even a vice; and the harder one works, the more of a vice it is.
Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, rightly states that we are always being prompted to do something, "'The world is on fire. Don't just sit there; do something.' But many of us have been doing many things, and the world continues to be burned. Perhaps it is because we have forgotten the art of stopping. So I say, Don't just do something; sit there. Sit there, in order for peace to be possible."
Is this really so hard to understand?
Monday, May 7, 2012
Catholicism and Dissent
Recently, appearing as a guest on Real Time With Bill Maher, Catholic editor Andrew Sullivan said something which I found fascinating. According to Sullivan, it's a common mistake to think of the Catholic Church as the hierarchy, or the clergy, with the Pope at the head. The Church is primarily the people, he said, and the Catholic people, by and large, are not stuck in the dark ages, as their leadership may sometimes suggest. Evidently, there was an actual decree to this effect; some ecumenical council or something, which decided that "the people are also the pope". It would appear that, within Catholicism, there is a mysterious system of checks and balances at play.
This clarified something I've long tried to understand.
Catholicism is not it's hierarchy, any more than America is it's government. Nonetheless, the true disciple is one who criticizes his church, just as the true patriot criticizes his government; because he wants what is best for it. All Americans want their politicians to live up to the principles set forth in the Constitution, and all Christians want their clergy to live up to the principles set forth in the Gospel.
If I call myself a proud American, it is because I am proud of my identification with the progressive spirit in which the country was founded; it does not mean that I am proud of the job my government is doing. Similarly, if I call myself a proud Christian, it is because I am proud to align myself with the principles espoused by Jesus, and with the legacy of saints whom he inspired to unite under the banner of his blessed name; it does not mean that I am proud of the calculated maneuverings of political clerics, who only claim to represent the members of Christ's Church.
I would ask anyone who disagrees with this, and wishes to see dissent rooted out of the Church, to familiarize himself or herself with the life and teaching of Jesus Christ. In addition to forgiving sins, giving sight to the blind, casting out demons, and sacrificing his life for the cause of pacifism, Christ spent most of his time voicing his dissent. The Gospel is full of admonitions he delivered to the Pharisees; the religious hierarchy of his time.
And one need only look to the lives of the greatest saints, to see how Christ (in and through them) has responded to Catholic authorities over the ages:
Augustine famously declared, "The Church is a whore, and she's my mother." Does this sound like unqualified approval and submission? Or, rather, like criticism from someone in a unique position to criticize?
The most beloved of all saints, Francis, who may have been the only Christian to ever fully confess and live the teaching of Jesus Christ, sought the Pope's blessing for his monastic order, while respectfully proclaiming his own ascetical way of life as a more authentic immitation of Christ.
Saint Catherine is still honored for her shockingly bold, yet deferential, letters to the Pope, pressuming to counsel him on various matters and exhorting him to be worthy of his great office.
Saint Padre Pio was hounded by Church authorities for most of his life, and had to continually submit his clearer vision to the muddier dictates of church politics. Until the end of his life, he was hemmed in and treated as a charlatan by many high ranking Catholics.
Likewise, outside of Catholicism, there have been many "saints" whom the Church still cannot officially recognize, or cease from persecuting. It is a shame that they must be summarily dismissed from Catholic study, since these members of the more esoteric Christian Church are among some of the most authentic and uncompromising followers of Christ.
Women like 'Peace Pilgrim' don't observe the Sabbath, but they take Christ's words seriously when he says, "Go, sell all that you own, distribute it to the poor, come follow me, and you shall have treasure in heaven... For it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven." This woman gave away everything but a few "essentials" she could fit in her pockets, and walked in the footsteps of Christ, preaching about spiritual wealth.
Did she know less about Christianity than the pope, who has his own city, -- and needs an entire city in order to hoard the massive amount of material wealth acquired through centuries of war and extortion; enough to feed the whole world ten times over?
Men like George Fox never observed the symbolic ritual known as The Mass, but they received the true Eucharist when they meditated in silence and were filled with the living spirit of Christ. Unlike so many who only go through the motions and believe they have been changed, these people proved by their works that they had been utterly transformed; for they lived modestly, peacefully, and suffered years of imprisonment and persecution for their faith.
Naturally, the Church gets very uneasy when men start preaching and living like the Early Christians, as Fox did, with divine authority: "You will say, 'Christ saith this', and 'the apostles say this', but what canst thou say? Art thou a Child of the Light, and hast thou walked in the Light, and what thou speakest, is it inwardly from the Lord?"
Fox has his own things to say, but he undoubtedly took seriously the words of Christ: "resist not evil.. turn the other cheek.. pray for your enemies... return good for evil." A true Christian, he became a pacifist, and endured many beatings without ever returning a blow. All this, while the Catholic Church was still torturing people for conscientious objection to war.
And, of course, there are individuals who do not trace their spiritual awakening to Jesus in any way, yet, who lived thoroughly Christian, or Christ-like, lives. What of them? Who among us has the arrogance to suppose that he or she is pleasing to God, while a man like Gandhi warrants divine wrath and hellfire? But this is precisely what the Catholic so-called authorities believe, to this day. We have yet to see Gandhi canonized as a Catholic saint and, I dare say, we will have to wait a very long time before we see something like that; for it will mean that the leadership of the Catholic Church has finally come to its senses.
While leadership, by definition, is supposed to be progressive, we find the exact opposite in the case of the Catholic hierarchy. They have yet to declare anything in advance of public opinion, but, when they do come out with some new declaration, it is invariably something which the people have long known and campaigned for themselves. They do not challenge the people, as they should, but are continually challenged by the people. For example, the significance of Mary in Catholicism is due, not to the clergy, but, mainly to the people, who loved and honored her long before the Church was obliged to take a similar notice.
We only need to consider how many times, in ways great and small, the Roman Catholic Church has reversed its position and changed its policies (its doctrines) over time. A cursory glance at history should suffice to make this fact obvious to even the most brainwashed and unconscious Catholics. In light of this fact, we must either confess that the Church has been (and, pressumably, still is) mistaken on many issues, or, confess that revelation has been (and, pressumably, still is) ongoing; that doctrine is continually subject to revision, as God increasingly makes His will known in the world.
My own contention is that the Church has yet to live up to revelations made on the Sermon On The Mount, and has a long way to go before it can look squarely at the words of Paul the Apostle, when he wrote, "...there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal. 3:28)
It is very telling that the disciple who was named the foundation of the church (and is often called "the first pope"), namely, Peter, is the one who cut off the centurian's ear when they came for Jesus, -- essentially, attempting to defend Christ by betraying Christ's core teaching. Even Judas did not betray Christ's teaching when he told the Romans where to find the master.
It is very telling that, at another moment of truth, "the first pope" denied (three times) that he even knew the Lord. Before Christ was crucified, "the rock" upon which the Church was founded had already betrayed him and crumbled like a clod of dirt.
Lastly, it is telling that, of all the disciples, only John, and not Peter, would accompany Jesus to the cross, where, in the final moments, he would be told to look upon Mary as his own mother.
Evidently, Peter -- or the Church which claims succession from him -- is still denying Christ, while John's spiritual heirs are still standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Mary at the foot of the cross, too busy following the Lord, and protecting his mother, to be overly concerned with the administration of worldly religion.
This clarified something I've long tried to understand.
Catholicism is not it's hierarchy, any more than America is it's government. Nonetheless, the true disciple is one who criticizes his church, just as the true patriot criticizes his government; because he wants what is best for it. All Americans want their politicians to live up to the principles set forth in the Constitution, and all Christians want their clergy to live up to the principles set forth in the Gospel.
If I call myself a proud American, it is because I am proud of my identification with the progressive spirit in which the country was founded; it does not mean that I am proud of the job my government is doing. Similarly, if I call myself a proud Christian, it is because I am proud to align myself with the principles espoused by Jesus, and with the legacy of saints whom he inspired to unite under the banner of his blessed name; it does not mean that I am proud of the calculated maneuverings of political clerics, who only claim to represent the members of Christ's Church.
I would ask anyone who disagrees with this, and wishes to see dissent rooted out of the Church, to familiarize himself or herself with the life and teaching of Jesus Christ. In addition to forgiving sins, giving sight to the blind, casting out demons, and sacrificing his life for the cause of pacifism, Christ spent most of his time voicing his dissent. The Gospel is full of admonitions he delivered to the Pharisees; the religious hierarchy of his time.
And one need only look to the lives of the greatest saints, to see how Christ (in and through them) has responded to Catholic authorities over the ages:
Augustine famously declared, "The Church is a whore, and she's my mother." Does this sound like unqualified approval and submission? Or, rather, like criticism from someone in a unique position to criticize?
The most beloved of all saints, Francis, who may have been the only Christian to ever fully confess and live the teaching of Jesus Christ, sought the Pope's blessing for his monastic order, while respectfully proclaiming his own ascetical way of life as a more authentic immitation of Christ.
Saint Catherine is still honored for her shockingly bold, yet deferential, letters to the Pope, pressuming to counsel him on various matters and exhorting him to be worthy of his great office.
Saint Padre Pio was hounded by Church authorities for most of his life, and had to continually submit his clearer vision to the muddier dictates of church politics. Until the end of his life, he was hemmed in and treated as a charlatan by many high ranking Catholics.
Likewise, outside of Catholicism, there have been many "saints" whom the Church still cannot officially recognize, or cease from persecuting. It is a shame that they must be summarily dismissed from Catholic study, since these members of the more esoteric Christian Church are among some of the most authentic and uncompromising followers of Christ.
Women like 'Peace Pilgrim' don't observe the Sabbath, but they take Christ's words seriously when he says, "Go, sell all that you own, distribute it to the poor, come follow me, and you shall have treasure in heaven... For it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven." This woman gave away everything but a few "essentials" she could fit in her pockets, and walked in the footsteps of Christ, preaching about spiritual wealth.
Did she know less about Christianity than the pope, who has his own city, -- and needs an entire city in order to hoard the massive amount of material wealth acquired through centuries of war and extortion; enough to feed the whole world ten times over?
Men like George Fox never observed the symbolic ritual known as The Mass, but they received the true Eucharist when they meditated in silence and were filled with the living spirit of Christ. Unlike so many who only go through the motions and believe they have been changed, these people proved by their works that they had been utterly transformed; for they lived modestly, peacefully, and suffered years of imprisonment and persecution for their faith.
Naturally, the Church gets very uneasy when men start preaching and living like the Early Christians, as Fox did, with divine authority: "You will say, 'Christ saith this', and 'the apostles say this', but what canst thou say? Art thou a Child of the Light, and hast thou walked in the Light, and what thou speakest, is it inwardly from the Lord?"
Fox has his own things to say, but he undoubtedly took seriously the words of Christ: "resist not evil.. turn the other cheek.. pray for your enemies... return good for evil." A true Christian, he became a pacifist, and endured many beatings without ever returning a blow. All this, while the Catholic Church was still torturing people for conscientious objection to war.
And, of course, there are individuals who do not trace their spiritual awakening to Jesus in any way, yet, who lived thoroughly Christian, or Christ-like, lives. What of them? Who among us has the arrogance to suppose that he or she is pleasing to God, while a man like Gandhi warrants divine wrath and hellfire? But this is precisely what the Catholic so-called authorities believe, to this day. We have yet to see Gandhi canonized as a Catholic saint and, I dare say, we will have to wait a very long time before we see something like that; for it will mean that the leadership of the Catholic Church has finally come to its senses.
While leadership, by definition, is supposed to be progressive, we find the exact opposite in the case of the Catholic hierarchy. They have yet to declare anything in advance of public opinion, but, when they do come out with some new declaration, it is invariably something which the people have long known and campaigned for themselves. They do not challenge the people, as they should, but are continually challenged by the people. For example, the significance of Mary in Catholicism is due, not to the clergy, but, mainly to the people, who loved and honored her long before the Church was obliged to take a similar notice.
We only need to consider how many times, in ways great and small, the Roman Catholic Church has reversed its position and changed its policies (its doctrines) over time. A cursory glance at history should suffice to make this fact obvious to even the most brainwashed and unconscious Catholics. In light of this fact, we must either confess that the Church has been (and, pressumably, still is) mistaken on many issues, or, confess that revelation has been (and, pressumably, still is) ongoing; that doctrine is continually subject to revision, as God increasingly makes His will known in the world.
My own contention is that the Church has yet to live up to revelations made on the Sermon On The Mount, and has a long way to go before it can look squarely at the words of Paul the Apostle, when he wrote, "...there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal. 3:28)
It is very telling that the disciple who was named the foundation of the church (and is often called "the first pope"), namely, Peter, is the one who cut off the centurian's ear when they came for Jesus, -- essentially, attempting to defend Christ by betraying Christ's core teaching. Even Judas did not betray Christ's teaching when he told the Romans where to find the master.
It is very telling that, at another moment of truth, "the first pope" denied (three times) that he even knew the Lord. Before Christ was crucified, "the rock" upon which the Church was founded had already betrayed him and crumbled like a clod of dirt.
Lastly, it is telling that, of all the disciples, only John, and not Peter, would accompany Jesus to the cross, where, in the final moments, he would be told to look upon Mary as his own mother.
Evidently, Peter -- or the Church which claims succession from him -- is still denying Christ, while John's spiritual heirs are still standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Mary at the foot of the cross, too busy following the Lord, and protecting his mother, to be overly concerned with the administration of worldly religion.
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