Monthly Archive for October, 2007

The no-win situation

Just a thought …

I was watching The Incredibles (again) and after Bob Parr throws his boss through several walls (at least they were “modern” drywall — and poorly made at that because the studs appear to be on 10 foot centers or so — and not the plaster and lathe or, worse, the plaster and metal mesh that we had to deal with in our home) he talks to Rick Dicker at the hospital.

Bob: I’m fired, aren’t I.
Rick: Oh, do you think?
Bob: What can I say, Rick?
Rick: Nothing you haven’t said before.
Bob: Someone was in trouble.
Rick: Someone’s always in trouble.
Bob: I had to do something.
Rick: Yeah. Every time you say those words it means a month and a half of trouble for me, Bob. It means hundreds of thousands of taxpayers’ dollars.

As Mr. Incredible, Bob could not help but help those in need. Even when that meant someone else could/would get hurt. It seems that the only criteria was who was in more immediate danger. For example, when Incrediboy was leaving the bank with the bomb on his cape, Mr Incredible allowed Bomb Voyage to escape in order to save Incrediboy even though allowing Bomb Voyage to escape would most likely result in more danger to the public. But there really was no “right” answer; in either case, someone gets hurt.

Perhaps this is the same quandary in which God is embroiled? Perhaps God is acting — all over the place and in many situations — for the good. But there are some situations where someone is going to get hurt no matter what God does. And those situations are the “evil” we see in the world. Now, this is just a thought and not fully-reasoned and I may change my mind tomorrow. It just struck me as a similar situation.

We can cite countless situations where there are multiple possible actions to take but we don’t see a single one in which someone does not get hurt. And so we pick one or the other based on some reasoning or other. And people get hurt and we get blamed. This is so common that we often don’t even notice it. There must be some implied (at least I’ve never heard anyone say it) idea that God would be able to take some action in which no one gets hurt. But is that really so rational? I don’t think so. Perhaps, if God miraculously intervened with his uber-human omnipotence then there may be solutions to some of these situations. But I think a more rational approach is to realize there are no-win situations, no matter how incredible you are!

But, like I said … Just a thought.

Going beyond words

One of my daughter’s favorite movies is The Incredibles. Since I work at home and watch her most of the time, it’s very convenient that I, too, enjoy this movie because we watch it over and over and over. I’ve started paying attention to some of the dialog and there are some very good lines. One is when Helen Parr, aka Elastigirl, visits Edna to see the new supersuits she made. Helen is unaware of everything which precipitated Edna’s making the suits and so is totally lost as Edna starts talking about them. Edna then says:

Yes, words are useless! Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble. Too much of it, darling. Too much. That is why I show you my work. That is why you are here.

Thomas Merton, talks about the same thing in Echoing Silence:

True communication on the deepest level is more than a simple sharing of ideas, of conceptual knowledge, or formulated truth. The kind of communication that is necessary on this deep level must also be “communion” beyond the level of words, a communion in authentic experience which is shared not only on a “preverbal” level but also on a “post-verbal” level.

The “preverbal” level is that of the unspoken and indefinable “preparation,” “the predisposition” of the mind and heart, necessary for all “monastic” experience whatever.

Now, perhaps I’m stretching the point, but I would consider some religious experiences — the Eucharist, for example — to be “monastic” experiences since these are reflective, contemplative, personal, yet shared and participatory. Merton continues (with emphasis added):

This demands among other things a “freedom from automatisms and routines,” and candid liberation from external social dictates, from conventions, limitations, and mechanisms which restrict understanding and inhibit experience of the new, the unexpected. The monk who is to communicate on the level that interests us here must be not merely a punctilious observer of external traditions, but a living example of traditional and interior realization. He must be wide open to life and to new experience because he has fully utilized his own tradition and gone beyond it. This will permit him to meet a [disciple] of another, apparently remote and alien tradition, and find a common ground of verbal understanding with him. The “post-verbal” level will then, at least ideally, be that on which they both meet beyond their own words and their own understanding in the silence of an ultimate experience which might conceivably not have occurred if they had not met and spoken. This I would call “communion.” I think it is something that the deepest ground of our being cries out for, and it is something for which a lifetime of striving would not be enough.

Language is limiting. Language is controlling. Edna was unable to describe to Helen the experience and wonder of making the supersuits because there was no common ground of understanding. Helen might as well have been talking a different language altogether. Her biases and assumptions did not allow her to understand. It didn’t fit into her mental model of the world. But that does not mean that Edna’s experiences were invalid or wrong or false. There was no language that could bridge the two world-views. But the experience itself could.

And this is exactly where the trouble lies in religions. Looking at the words, it may seem, for example, Islam and Christianity are mutually exclusive. And so we use these incompatible words as dividers between the two. We demand that they say the right words about their experiences of their God. That they describe their God with just the right adjectives — the same adjectives that we use to describe our God: “God cannot be God unless God is a Triune God, eternally existing in three persons …” Only then, is their experience of their God “correct.” Furthermore, if they don’t use the correct verbiage then they are heretics and eternally damned and sometimes worse.

But let’s take the very trite example of two people witnessing an event taking place in this physical world. You will get different stories, different explanations, different emphasis. In short, incompatible, mutually exclusive words. In fact, this very idea is often used to defend the Gospels. Just look at the resurrection story and see how many “different” accounts there are and how these “different” accounts for merged.

So, if we cannot agree on the words to describe an event in this physical world, how much less can we agree on the words to describe the ineffable, numinous experience of God?? And how can we hold others at fault for using their own words which make sense to them but not us? The key is to go beyond our own traditions and meet in non-verbal communion.

Rely on God for every thing????

Thomas Merton, in Echoing Silence, writes:

Naturally, while sometimes you are very quiet and happy because God is very obviously with you, with a presence & blessedness you never imagined possible, at other times this is not so. Then you try to pray or think of Christ and your mind instead of filling with peace, fills with slogans, He-she jokes, movies so bad you had forgotten them by the self-protective work of your own subconscious mind. You think of million dollar advertising ideas, and this makes you very ashamed, and bored, & disgusted. This is a trial common to our life, & has good effects, one of the principal of which is to make you love God not only for His obvious gifts, but realizing clearly, by His apparent absence, how infinitely preferable He is to everything else. That this absence is only apparent is clear from St. John of the Cross, and all the others, & everybody here knows it perfectly well, and really, you feel bad some days, but it is nothing to the bad days you had outside, in the world.

This really stopped in my tracks when I read this: “how infinitely preferable He is to everything else.” According to Merton it’s not a tough decision with God coming in at 51%. It’s a hands down victory. God is infinitely preferable to everything else!! How many of us can say that? I can’t. If we saw God as infinitely preferable to a satisfying job, fashion, a new romance, football, financial security, sex, coffee, the latest high-tech gadget, then Jesus’ call to sell our possessions, leave our families, and suffer injury & injustice would be a no-brainer.

Then Merton says that the bad days when God seems absent are “nothing to the bad days you had outside, in the world.” That’s another tough one. If I think about the worst days of my life, I’m not sure that the days I was pining for God would make the list. Now, I had bad days where God was absent. Believe you me. I remember begging God, pleading with him to make himself known to me. He didn’t and eventually I served him with divorce papers. But were those the worst days I’ve experienced? I don’t think so.

Then Merton continues:

Also, as soon as this is done with, your mind unexpectedly fills up with the presence of God twice as real and twice as holy as before. For another result of these temptations is to make you very docile, very detached from your own opinions and judgments & way of doing things, and then you rely on God for the smallest things, for every thing. And this is peace, because God gives everybody everything, & the only reason each person doesn’t have more is that he gets in God’s way, trying to get things with our own dumb will.

Docile and detached from our own opinions and judgments. Hmmmmm. In how many people do I see this? It seems to me that the greatest self-proclaimed Christians are some of the most opinionated and judgmental people around. And how many of us rely on God for every thing? I know I don’t. Hell, if I relied on God for every thing I’d quit my job and blog 16 hours a day. Instead we got to get up and make the donuts. Money doesn’t grow on trees. The car ain’t gonna fix itself.

But can you imagine relying on God for every thing? Just think about that. That’s got to be like being a kid on summer vacation again. Mom makes your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. No job. No school. Dad buys your clothes. You get driven everywhere. All you have to do is play and watch TV. If that’s not peace, I don’t know what is. But the trick is really and truly relying on someone else. For every thing. For most of us, our control-freak nature takes over and tries to do God’s job. Then all we end up doing is worrying and all that ends up doing us giving us heartburn, insomnia, and ulcers.

Oh, to have faith. Life would be so much easier!

Can’t get there from here …

… unless we’re already there and just don’t know it.

It seems to me that there is a disconnect in salvation. If we are totally depraved and can do nothing good without God then how can we receive the gift of God’s son? How can we, as sinners, bring ourselves to realize that we even need God let alone bring ourselves to find God? Through the urging of the Holy Spirit? I think not because the Holy Spirit needs to appeal to something in us which can know God and we in our sinful state cannot.

By way of (obviously imperfect, as all examples are) example, let’s say that I am trying to get Joe, who has been blind from birth, to understand the color red. He has been separated from color all his life (born color-depraved, so to speak) and so has nothing within himself with which he can begin to understand color. No matter how hard I press and explain and urge him to understand the color red, it isn’t going to happen. Any understanding of the color red at which Joe does arrive will, obviously and necessarily, be extremely different from the understanding that I have.

Isn’t that the predicament we are in? If we are 100% separated from God and always have been (and I’m talking about each person and not “man” and “woman” as created by God) then there is no way we are going to understand anything about God no matter how hard the Holy Spirit urges. Unless there us a bit of God in us — a seed or a kernel — then there is no way we can understand our need of God’s salvation and no way we can receive it. This reminds me of something C.G. Jung said:

For it is not that ‘God’ is a myth, but that myth is the revelation of a divine life in man.

We all have a “divine life” in us. We all have the image of God within. Sometimes that image is buried quite deeply and we have absolutely no recollection of it but it’s there. It has to be there in order for the Holy Spirit to work. So we are not given the image of God when we are “saved” but that (perhaps tiny) part of us that already is the image of God is brought to our attention.

Your faith has made you well

Of all the miracles in the gospels, there are only six where Jesus says “Your faith has made you well” (or something like that). What did Jesus mean by this rarely spoken phrase? Something about the people involved in these miracles was special, different from the rest.

I can imagine that the attitude of most of the people whom Jesus healed was similar to my attitude when I take Excedrin for a headache. It worked last time and the time before that and the time before that. It’ll work this time, too. I mean, when you see a man healing person after person of affliction after affliction day after day, how hard is it to believe that if you ask him to heal you he will be able to? Most of the people were in it for the physical healing and that’s it. They simply believed that this man called Jesus was able to heal. Now, that’s not to say that this type of healing is not life-altering. If I had been blind since birth or if I had just died and Jesus healed me, I’d be fairly likely to follow him around town as a convert to whatever he was teaching. Healing can be life changing, no doubt. But of the people whose faith was instrumental in their healing, not one of them is on record as becoming a devoted follower of Jesus.

The one miracle of the six that I find most interesting was also found most interesting by 75% of the gospel writers. (I also find it very interesting that John does not record any of these six miracles nor does he record Jesus ever saying “Your faith has made you well.”) The miracle to which I refer is the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage (Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:24-34, Luke 8:42-48). To paraphrase, a woman who has been afflicted with an incurable hemorrhage for 12 years gets it into her head that if she merely touches Jesus’ clothes that she would be healed. I find this fascinating because this was not Jesus’ regular modus operandi. The laying on of hands was the usual healing method. Furthermore, this woman was not going to ask Jesus if she could touch his clothes — she was just going to do it. Now, the moment she decides to put her plan into action seems a most inopportune time. A crowd is around Jesus, pressing against him, so much so that no could figure out who it was that had touched him. So, imagine a woman who was most likely rather frail from being sick for 12 years pushing her way through a crowd, getting stepped on, elbowed in the ribs, pushed and bumped, all in order to do something she had never seen done before but which she is convinced will heal her. Why did she not just ask Jesus to heal her? Why did she choose that particular time? Who knows. All we know is that it worked!

But let’s look at how it worked. Jesus did not touch her. Jesus did not give his healing power to her. Instead, he felt that his power had gone out of him. Jesus didn’t give — she took — his power. Jesus, in this case, was more of a medium than a source of power. This woman transformed herself with God’s power and used Jesus as the conduit or medium to take that power. I think this particular miracle is the most illustrative of the phrase “your faith has made you well.” This was all her. Jesus was more of a bystander in this one. Yes, of course, it was his power that healed her and it was her touching his clothes that healed her and he knew all along who had touched him. But she did this with no precedent for her method and no sane reason to think it would work.

And so, I think this is what Jesus meant by faith. It’s not believing that something you’ve seen happen before will happen again. It’s not believing that Jesus has the power to heal physical afflictions — of course he does. It’s not believing that Jesus can use that power to heal — of course he can. That’s all belief and not faith — I believe that Excedrin will help my headaches. Faith is knowing that the power Jesus had is available to you for the taking and can transform your life.

This woman was constantly bleeding — her life-force had been ebbing away for 12 years. She needed to be transformed in order regain her life and her vitality and she knew exactly how to effect that transformation. This woman was going to touch Jesus’ clothes, be healed, and leave! She wasn’t planning on sticking around. Jesus, himself, was not what was important to her. The power of Jesus was what she wanted. The faith that made her well was not faith in Jesus but the faith that this transformation was possible; the faith that this mundane, life-force-sucking world is not all there is.

Riddle me this, Batman

I came across something in the Gospels that I’ve never noticed before. There is apparent(?) disagreement between the stories of the Roman centurion who asked Jesus to heal his servant as told in Matthew 8:5-13 and Luke 7:1-10.

In Matthew, the centurion talks to Jesus directly and asks him to heal his servant. Jesus agrees to come to the centurion’s house but the centurion says that Jesus must only say the word and the servant will be healed.

In Luke, the centurion sends some Jewish elders to ask Jesus to come to the centurion’s house. Then, as Jesus approaches, the centurion sends some friends to tell Jesus that he must only say the word. Luke 7:7 explicitly states that the centurion did not talk to Jesus directly since the friends relay the following message to Jesus: “for this reason I did not even consider myself worthy to come to You …”

What’s up with that? How are these two accounts reconciled?

Merton on Sophia

The beauty of all creation is a reflection of Sophia living and hidden in creation. But it is only our reflection. And the misleading thing about beauty, created beauty, is that we expect Sophia to be simply a more intense and more perfect and more brilliant, unspoiled, spiritual revelation of the same beauty. Whereas to arrive at her beauty we must pass through an apparent negation of created beauty, and to reach her light we must realize that in comparison with created light it is darkness. But this is only because created beauty and light are ugliness and darkness compared with her. Again the whole thing is in the question of mercy, which cuts across the divisions and passes beyond every philosophical and religious ideal. For Sophia is not an ideal, not an abstraction, but the highest reality, and the highest reality must manifest herself to us not only in power but also in poverty, otherwise we never see it. Sophia is the Lady Poverty to whom St. Francis was married. And of course she dwelt with the Desert Fathers in their solitude, for it was she who brought them there and she whom they knew there. It was with her that they conversed all the time in their silence.

Thomas Merton, Echoing Silence