Fragments

What first strikes us about God is not his love, nor any other attribute, but his incomprehensibility. First and foremost, God is mysterious; subtler than silence, deeper than space, more impenetrable than eternity. "His ways are not our ways." In a flash, he strides over mortal understanding and is lost in the mystery. Therefore, we ought to desire a respectful ignorance of God; not to overstep the boundaries of experience by laying claim to knowledge we do not possess. Even in the interpretation of experience, we must not hasten beyond what is there plainly given. Faith reaches into the unknown, and what it posits are merely footholds; clumps of cloud, temporarily solid-enough to serve as stepping-stones into a deeper experience of the ineffable. All supposed knowledge of God is kept in perspective, and the pride of man is held in check, by the constant recollection of one's ignorance of him; which infinitely transcends what one thinks one knows. We come closest to God when we have left all knowing behind, and entered firmly upon the way of the unknown; a realm of unspoken riddles, ghostly shades, fleeting glimpses, and forgotten dreams, charged everywhere with the unmanifested potentials of being. When we have shed a thousand ideas, a thousand skins, and become naked as the light, -- then, we may have some inkling of what "God" means.

The world is a deep pit, and who can fault a man for falling? But try to stand in the presence of the Lord. Recollect your soul into the presence, when you can. Do not wrestle with yourself, but give way to conflict, and discover that you have overcome. Seek peace. Seek it enough, and you will come to love it. Peace will attract you of its own accord, drawing you into the very heart and core of your being, that you might dwell in ever-widening oceans of bliss. For there is within you a still point, a calm in the eye of the storm. Here, one does not become drowsy with relaxation, but increasingly lucid. Keeping silent, one's soul vibrates to the most subtle, yet the most titanic, movements in the earth, sky, and spirit. There is a whole world to discover beyond oneself, within oneself; self-surrender IS self-realization.

Contrary to popular opinion, having an ideal and falling short of it does not make you a hypocrite. Too often, we see idealists discouraged from speaking their truth, on the grounds that they have yet to bring their lives into accordance with their visions. Is this criticism, this attempt at censure, specifically designed to prevent those in need of virtue from contemplating virtue? But how are they to become virtuous? And even if all they ever do is speak of it -- what then? At least, fine words are spoken. Would you rather they conform all their perceptions to what they can lay hold of, like blind men? Ah, but this is what the crowd likes to do. How many would rather compromise their ideals, and pervert their reason, in order to conform all things to their own level; so as not to be haunted by the recollection of what is greater?

We are rich with the spoils of spiritual warfare; for we are heirs to the saints, the prophets, and the Son of God. What priceless revelations of the Holy Spirit have come down to us! Behold, the inheritance which the Lord has delivered into our hands for safe-keeping. Unsearchable treasures of his wisdom.

"God is and is not." (~ Upanishads) My sense is that disputes between atheists and theists have largely revolved around semantic misunderstandings. The decision to adopt a religious viewpoint, and to make use of religious language, is inherently a value judgement; it is as if to say "this is worthy of being called holy", and "this is worthy of the name of God", for it seems no more exalted terms c

an be found to represent objects, ideas, and experiences which are themselves truly exalted. If we wish to understand religious matters, we must consult experts in religious matters -- i.e. MYSTICS; and not, by any means, fundamentalists. The mystics have always taught that religious terms are ultimately symbolic, and that the spiritual reality utterly transcends those names and forms we merely employ for the sake of convenience. Admittedly, we are dealing with the figurative, not the literal; "the spirit", not "the letter". Yet, according to this way of seeing, there is indeed such a thing as figurative reality. Christ, whether or not he exists in a more literal sense, or "merely" (one might rather say "purely") in a figurative sense, is no less real. As flesh and blood or as an idea in the hearts and minds of humanity, he is possessed of tremendous potency, and has undoubtedly influenced our history more than any other character we can dig up. Go figure.

Shall I tell you how I, as a Christian, reconcile with ease those contradictions arising from a comparison of the Old Testament with the New? It is simply this: The law is not a dead, but a living thing. That which is carved in stone (or printed in bibles) will fade in time, but what is written on our hearts must change and grow as we do. Revelation is ongoing; the law is not destroyed, but, rathe

r, it is fulfilled, by undergoing periodic evolutionary changes. As George Fox tells it: "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?" The largest Christian hearts well know that Paganism provides (and has always provided) the foundations upon which their faith rests. Still, they are tolerant and inclusive with respect to those who have yet to embrace this fact. (("Receive him that is weak in the faith, but not to doubtful disputations... Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.")) One of my favorite pieces in the tradition of wisdom writing comes from radical Christian Leo Tolstoy; his essay 'The First Step', wherein he argues that a great error was committed at the advent of the Christian religion, when the Pagan virtues were disregarded in favor of the Christian ones. Basically, he says, one cannot even begin to practice Christianity in earnest until one has entirely mastered the Pagan virtues. We must be just before we can be merciful; champions before we can be martyrs. We must honor many gods before we can learn to honor the One in whom they live, move, and have their being. Christ might easily have recourse to the words of Isaac Newton, "If I have seen further it is by standing on ye sholders of Giants." 

It takes courage to be sincere; to be serious, vulnerable, insightful, and to allow others to be serious, vulnerable, insightful; without immediately cracking some careless, stupid joke. Not everything is ironic. Not every reflective moment needs to be shattered with instant levity. Where did we ever acquire this notion that being cool means not giving a fuck? Fuck that! It's not cool to be flippa

nt. It's cool to care, to question, to teach, to share what you REALLY think and feel. All of my heart to the sincere, serious people. The ones who make you think. And, yes, I love the ones who make me laugh, but it would be nice if they knew when to stop; when not to make a joke out of everything; when to allow something to stand, a little awkward on the page, if need be, declaring something of substance. Jokes are easy. Apathy is effortless. Cowardice.

More Fragments

I am a moth encircling a flame;
deterred by the heat from merging with the fire,
but incapable of parting from the light.

I'm learning to claim victory when my ego is defeated;
to relish a sweet aftertaste when my pride is bitterly stung.

What we call "preaching", the wise call "speaking".
If we aren't being accused of preaching,
we probably aren't saying anything.

It is easy to forgive a sin when it is overshadowed by a graver sin;
we would damn Peter and his denial without Judas and his betrayal.

The answers we give are never so revealing, enlightening, nor damning,

than the reasons we possess for answering as we do.

God is a great mystery because of the world,
and the world is a great mystery because of God.

That love exists -- 
that even the notion of love exists,
is proof that God exists, and that he loves us.

Look with the heart. Listen with the heart.
Think with the heart. Speak with the heart. Act with the heart.
All our faculties should be loyal subjects of the heart, who is their queen.

We are wiser than we know, but we dismiss our intuitions,
and let our passions carry us where they will.

While honoring truth as a noble ideal, it is equally important to remember that it is not static, like a destination, but dynamic, like a journey. Truth is not less subjective than objective. What this means is that each of us must progress at our own pace, not attempting to run ahead of ourselves; -- for that is to run ahead of the truth.

However incredible our pleasures, however fantastic our joys, however powerful our loves, however cherished our sentiments connected to hearth and home, -- nothing in our lives compares to the common experiences of sainthood; to the exquisite voluptuousness of being caught up, lifted out of oneself, and hurled into a whirlwind of divine effulgence; pierced, showered, and shattered by grace. Our gr

eatest natural successes cannot disfigure the reality as it appears in the supernatural light of heaven. We are failed saints; botched experiments at loftiness, salt without savour, fit only to be pitied and trodden upon by souls of keener quality than ourselves. If the realization of this fact does not pulverize and obliterate every idol erected by vanity, reducing our pretensions to nothing, to the fine ash of purest humility, then we are indeed lost; stricken; strangled in mediocrity; settled on something less than we were made for; dislocated utterly from the Absolute, which alone ought to inspire in us the most awful wonder, and the most wonderful awe. Our lives should be fodder. His to make, demolish, and remake. We should lust for our own destruction, and for the destruction of all that we have thought, amassed, and put into effect, if it is true (as it surely is) that such utter desolation is the only thing capable of heralding the rebirth of a Christian instinct.

Mankind harbors a sneaking suspicion that the deepest emotions, insights, and perceptions to which he is sensitive have already occurred to him, and are present in his earliest memories. The aim of all culture is to make infancy articulate.

Conversion: Giving Form To Liminal Space

Dear Reverend,
  
Thank you for your kind response, and for taking some moments to assist me with this. I don't know if you can help me, though. I've spoken with a number of clergy members in the past and "I always came out through the door that I went in". But I appreciate any time and effort gambled on me. My religious identity has become a question of great difficulty, partly because I am complicated, and partly because I am stubborn; I insist on over-thinking matters which transcend thought.

The baptism would be for me.  My family attended Protestant services sporadically when I was a child. I imagine I was probably baptized, but I'll have to check. In either case, I might be interested in the preparatory lessons, and possibly the baptismal ritual, and almost certainly Confirmation, if I choose to go forward in this path.

I've been exploring the Christian tradition independently for years, but in a largely haphazard and esoteric fashion. In some ways, I am already deeply initiated, while in other ways, I have yet to observe the most preliminary respects. The most "obvious" symbols and creeds of the Church are obscure to me; I never get beyond first principles, and they never lose their mystery.

While I desire, more than anything, to concretize my faith, and to honor the specific forms of Epsicopal doctrine, I find in myself an irrepressible tendency to lose sight of the forms. Categories and definitions blend and bleed into one another and appear to be profoundly interrelated. I have a sincere respect for the specific ritual forms used not only to symbolize but also to manifest our investment. I see that they are, and the Church is, a kind of Incarnation. But, too rapidly, I fly beyond the forms, in order to embrace something altogether interior and abstract. I want to embrace the forms, and the world.

I feel very drawn to the Liturgy, to the Divine Mother, and to other aspects of the faith, but I wish to embrace them without dissimulation, and, in all honesty, I fear there is something in me which undermines them and grasps too readily at the invisible. For a time, I thought I was a Quaker, and I enjoyed their services, and silences. I felt a kinship with the members of "the invisible church"; mystics who identified themselves only ostensibly as Christians, but whose approach was so "pure" as to largely do away with Christianity. Of course, one could argue that the purpose of the Church is to do away with itself; to make the loftiest mystical states accessible without recourse to itself. Even Christ did not come in his own name; he knew that, when we have received the sense and substance of a word, then the Word may be forgotten. Perhaps I am only confessing my spiritual immaturity, in clinging to the outer garments; to Mary, and to Jesus; as Sri Ramakrishna, when he clung to his own image of the Divine Mother:

"Mother, don't make me unconscious through the Knowledge of Brahman. Don't give me Brahmajnana, Mother. Am I not Your child, and naturally timid? I must have my Mother. A million salutations to the Knowledge of Brahman! Give it to those who want it. O Mother let me remain in contact with men! Don't make me a dried-up ascetic. I want to enjoy Your sport in the world."

I am naturally timid. I want to enjoy God's sport in the world, and in the Church. But I struggle with the deeper "Knowledge of Brahman", with the knowledge of the mystics, who have encountered the unknown God; the God without form and name. From this fog of unknowing, I look upon Jesus, and invent the strangest doctrines. I say things like:

"Even if he is a character of fiction, he is still the clearest incarnation of God. Just look how he has taken hold of men's minds and of human history! Does it matter if he was/is "merely" an idea? Perhaps an idea can be holy, and possess a more formidable substance than matter itself. Is this not what it means to read the spirit, not the letter? Somehow, this idea, this image, errupted into history, and from where could it have come, if not from God?"

And, I know, this is very Gnostic of me, but I seem to recognize similar, if subtler, utterances among the saints. Still, my faith seeks the material, and I am inclined to believe the most conventional things. That he was a man, and was, at the same time, the one true Son of God, is something I can almost believe unreservedly. I used to think calling him "the one true God" was insensitive to other faiths, or only permissible in the sense that one might give one's father a "World's Best Dad" t-shirt, without seeing it as a (friendly or unfriendly) provocation to other fathers. On the contrary, it is endearing, and nobody would fault a loving son for idealizing his own father in this way. But, as diplomatic and reasonable as this explaination sounds, I am beginning to see it another way.

Nietzsche understood genius as a result of incredible social and historical forces. Whenever a civilization develops, it creates paradigms and blindspots; norms and more marginal areas of relative unconsciousness. Great pressure is built-up in maintaining these norms, and in repressing other matters into the cultural unconscious. At some point, these hidden matters errupt upon the stage of history, in the form of a person of unique genius. I believe Jesus of Nazareth is the greatest genius the world has known or may ever know; the erruption into history of universal love and wisdom; the first fruit of the Truth. I do not know if his identity came as a revelation to him or not, but I believe he accurately identified himself as the Christ, the Messiah, the Way, the Truth, the Son of God, and God. And while this claim is valid and justified in a hidden or subversive sense, I believe it is also unambiguously true, and may just as profitably be taken at face value. I believe he came to witness and to prove that the spirit has power over the flesh, and I believe he succeeded on both counts. Hence, the doctrine of the resurrection of the body is, for me, the easiest of all things to receive. I am unclear, though, as to how well my other ideas agree with the established doctrines of the Church.

I recognize a need for guidance and a more systematic approach, but my nature is introverted and independent to the point of eccentricity. I've never met a teacher nor an institution I could submit to, and perhaps that is my own fault, but I want to submit to Christ, and I try to find his intermediary in the Church. I'm just not sure what degree of involvement I am suited to have with the Church. Taking direction, as well as finding my place within a community, is not easy, and I'm not even sure it is possible for me. I stay on the outside because whenever I try to assert myself, I alienate people with my intensity and social naivette. Perhaps my place is on the outside.

In Christ,
Stephen

Openings

Cynics care what a man does, not who he is,
and can scarcely distinguish between the two.

Release your grip, relax and slip,
fall back and down, sink, sink, drop through,
trust Peace, and let Presence examine you.

Inside, the flame of Christ, and my poor heart dripping away. The subtle separating from the gross. Softly falling dregs of flesh, and perfumes of softly wafting soul; the incense of His Love. Cumbersome senses put to sleep, endless questions laid to rest, passions never fixed. Language crumbling into dust. The Virgin scattering into birds. Intimations breaking cloudbanks, and carried off by angels; for the Lord looks kindly on those who cannot fly.

My Soul, your great ambition was to be the artist. But, after a mere taste of humility, you wanted to be the brush. Another taste, and you swore you could become the paint. Yet another, and now you are even thinking like the canvas! So, for Christ's sake, be still. The LORD is painting his self-portrait.

My greatest insights are experienced at the limits of my understanding. It is only in the self-honest sense of my uncertainty and ignorance that I begin to touch my deepest truth. Only when the mystery remains intact, have I come to the ends of myself; if I am not confounded, it is because I have stopped short of the precipice. Every answer has in it something of a lie, and every question something of a truth.

Silence -- not listening to, but hearing from God -- is truth.

Because he spoke, because he loved, because he moved;
by his will, the Father draws us into communion with himself,
and what can we do, but wait upon his Word?

Man is either a slave of passion or a servant of love, --
but, for a single instant, when he chooses his destiny,
he is free; if only to decide who his master will be.

Your pain as well as your pleasure, your anger as well as your joy, your weakness as well as your strength, your fear as well as your faith, -- make you lovely in the eyes of the Lord.

He is mystery. He is awe. He is radiant design. Serendipity with a style. The abyss winking at you from behind the world. He is a chorus of light in the mind. Splendor beneath the surface of time. We should marvel at his depths. He is the reason for himself.

What a perfect expression it is, to say that we "reflect on" what we take into our minds, since we really do come to resemble, like a reflection, the matters we focus on. We cannot spend a day in the study of the saints without acquiring a conspicuous blush of goodness. And though we may become pale again a day later, all at once, the blood of Christ will run back into our cheeks, provided that we turn again to what is good. Saintliness is little more than an ingrained habit of fascination with goodness, and with God, who alone is good. Not all at once, nor once and for all, did the good become good. Rather, they became good by dwelling persistently on what is good. Even Jesus had to pray, and has to still. But, then, if he did not pray, he would not be himself. God is Prayer to God.

Prayer

Man, remember how to "be";
GOD will remember your works.

Prayer is the soul turned to God. It is impossible to be rightly disposed without being in an attitude of prayer. To be present is to be in the presence of God; to be present in God. Every experience of the true is an experience of the holy.

Holiness is meaning in the world.

Cast your heart upon the waters! Give your head to providence! Enter swiftly on that path which leads away from world events!

Be of good cheer; for the Lord is with you, always. Remembrance of this alone is needful. Every soul is well supplied until it doubts.

Jesus of my Heart, Lover of God, Sweet Flame, consume my life!

Overwhelm me, Father, with your thousand favors. Teach me to love. All good things are in your Son, to whom I owe amazement.

Have you exhausted the treasures of righteousness, that you should look elsewhere for an inheritance? God forbid! Only summon up the courage of your faith. There is gold enough among the good.

Love is golden splendor, giggling cherubs, soft honey in your tummy, light tumbling up your eyelids, the sky warm and giant, loose breezes in September.

The judgement of the Lord is mercy: A reprimand sufficiently tender to impress upon us the importance of tenderness could hardly be called a reprimand.

As a boy holds the hand of his father, hold the name of God.

It is sweet to remember the Lord; to stumble, at once, on the source, substance, and subject of all that is good.

Church is a spiritual gymnasium;
faith is a muscle exercised in prayer.

Virtue leaves its perfume in the mind.

We have light enough to find him, if we are serious about looking.

Prayer is the journey as well as the destination;
you cannot turn to God without turning to God.

Decorate the walls of your mind with icons of the saints.

We sing that we sing! We glory that we glory!
Praise the Lord who makes us to declare his praises!

Every prayer answers another prayer;
if I pray for you, someone prays for me.

Gratitude is the measure of gifts.

He is king who sits in his rightful place.

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.

The Sacrificial Ideal

What if God somehow burst into history in a singular way; what if he became like us, came to earth, proved himself with eloquence and miracles, proclaimed his unconditional love and forgiveness, -- and we killed him?

Shall we mention that he rose from the dead?

OF COURSE, he rose from the dead. He was God.

But we killed him.

Wrath, sloth, greed, shallowness, indifference, impatience, etc. -- the collective sins of his contemporaries determined that Christ's gospel be rejected and that he suffer death without mercy on the cross.

It has been a slow acknowledgment, these twenty centuries, that whoever spoke this message of love was speaking truth. In many places today, truth still cannot be heard, and it is thought blasphemous to speak more than half-truth. The people are blinded by the fire of Christ's life and words, and can receive only partial reflections and distortions thereof. We want to prosecute crimes, swear oaths, wed, breed, own property, and kill -- all things which he expressly forbade as being unhealthy to the spiritual life of man.

And though the Master even makes endless allowances for our weakness, and though, no matter how often we turn back, and turn our backs on him, he still invites us to follow, -- nonetheless, we continue to distort his teaching, or else reject it altogether.

What we ought to do is humble ourselves to the awesome gravity of the Christian life; equally acknowledging the strictness of the law and the leniency of the lawgiver.

Whatsoever we do, we are assured of God's forgiveness and his love, but there is only one way which he blesses and calls us to; absolute abandonment to the Holy Spirit; desiring nothing before God, and nothing but God. Christ decrees that all men should be beggars, until all doors are thrown open, and bachelors, until everyone is embraced. He understands that ideals are meant to be lofty, and that Christian ideals should be the loftiest of all.

At the same time, he plumbs the depths of our depravity, and because he knows what we struggle with, he makes concessions to our frail humanity, such that we need never fear his judgement, though we have fallen so far short of what is good.

The ways of God are so perfect that we might say they are not intended to be fulfilled by any man; but, being infinite in scope, are meant, rather, to pose an equal and insurmountable challenge to all men. How else can we learn to depend entirely on the grace of God? It is essential that even the saints fall short of perfection.

We should know this. But two thousand years have passed and we are still crucifying the Word of God; corrupting the gospel for which Christ lived and died.

Placing limits on love, we place shackles on Jesus. Calling ourselves good, we forget the meaning of the Word. Our standards are low, but our punishments are severe, while the standards of the Lord are high, but he knows nothing of judgement; only mercy.

Let us embrace Christ on his own terms, not ours, or let us shun him altogether, as our ancestors have done. Either way, we would not inflict the further insult of a Judas Kiss; pretending to embrace his statutes, while secretly perverting them.

Is it so terrible to have an ideal, or to recognize an ideal?

Just because we come up short, ought we to lower all things to our height? Must we compromise our vision, when we compromise ourselves? Is it so difficult to bear any discrepancy between the two, that we must turn the moral world on its head, and put to death the one who came to give us life? For the law of Christ permits a man to fall, and to be exhonerated by grace, but it does not permit him to drag the law itself down with him, in order to exhonerate his crime as well as himself.

We killed God. We murdered our ideal. We covered it up. And now the ghost of Jesus, the Holy Ghost, haunts our churches, like a tell-tale heart. The ghost of the ideal... the buried heart of the world... will... not... rest.