Archive for the 'mysticism' Category

Yet more tension of the opposites

I feel like I’ve been harping on this a lot lately but this is what I’ve been thinking about and trying to deal with in my life. MysticSaint at, Inspirations and Creative Thoughts, has another excellent post from which I’ll pull a couple quotes that he quotes:

… the mystic is known only through the fact that he brings opposites together, for all of him is the Real. Thus Abu Said al Kharraz was asked, “Through what have you known Allah?” He replied, “Through the fact that He brings opposites together,” for he had witnessed their coming together in himself.

– Ibn Arabi

Praise be to God who hath given His creatures no way of attaining to knowledge of Him except through their inability to know Him.

– Abu Bakr

Things lie hidden in their opposites, and but for the existence of opposites, the Opposer would have no manifestations.

– Al Alawi

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.

Your soul is eternal. Starting … now.

Does a single-ended eternity make sense? Our soul is eternal but from here on out. That’s not really eternal, is it?

Now, I’ve never heard anyone preach on where, exactly, our souls come from, but I would guess that most would say that God gives us our soul at conception or birth or sometime in there. That’s what makes us “human.” But where did God get that soul to give to us? Did he create it for me as I was being conceived or born or sometime in there?

Now, this soul of mine — as long as I’m on the “right” side of the fence and the “right” side of Jesus’ body at the Great J-Day — will live forever in God’s presence. But every single thing God has created — plants, animals, stars, galaxies, etc. — dies. Every single thing that does not die on its own will be destroyed when God creates the new heaven and new earth. So, if our souls were created for us, why will they not also be destroyed?

What if, as Eckhart says, our souls — or whatever you want to call our essential essence or being — has always and always will exist?

… whereby man may come most closely to God and wherein he may once more become like the original image as he was in God when there was yet no distinction between God and himself before God produced creatures.

Blessed are the pure in heart who leave everything to God now as they did before ever they existed.

God has no before nor after. God is neither this nor that.God is perfect simplicity. Prior to creatures, in the eternal now, I have played before the Father in his eternal stillness.

That is the real effect of original sin — separating us from God. But if I was born in sin and my soul was created when I was born then “I” have never known anything but separation from God. So, why do I have the urge to repair that separation? Why do I crave something I’ve never had and could never possibly understand?

Being born in sin means that my soul, which was and always had been with God, is now separated from God. And that’s why the Holy Spirit (as I talked about in my previous post) can work in us and remind us of what it was like being not separated from God. We can only be reminded of something we once new.

The work of the Holy Spirit

Found a quote from The Orthodox Faith by John of Damascus on The Fire and the Rose:

The Son is image of the Father, and image of the Son is the Spirit, through whom the Christ dwelling in man gives it to him to be to the image of God.

So, we can’t become the image of God without the Holy Spirit? But I thought we were created in the image of God. There’s no becoming involved.

Genesis 1:27: So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.

Genesis 9:6: Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man.

In Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist, D.T. Suzuki writes:

Indeed, we are all apt to forget that every one of us is Buddha himself. In the Christian way of saying, this means that we are all made in the likeness of God, or in Eckhart’s words, that “God’s is-ness is my is-ness and neither more nor less.”

We already are the image of God so what does the Holy Spirit have to do? The Holy Spirit is the reminder of things we’ve forgotten because (again from Mysticism)

… the sense of opposites is dominating your consciousness. The idea of participation or empathy is an intellectual interpretation of the primary experience, while as far as the experience itself is concerned, there is no room for any sort of dichotomy. The intellect, however, obtrudes itself and breaks up the experience in order to make it amenable to intellectual treatment, which means a discrimination or bifurcation. The original feeling of identity is then lost and intellect is allowed to have its characteristic way of creaking up reality into pieces. Participation or empathy is the result of inellectualization.

. . .

It is our eating the forbidden fruit of knowledge which has resulted in our constant habit of intellectualizing. But we have never forgotten, mythologically speaking, the original abode of innocence: that is to say, even when we are given over to intellection and to the abstract way of thinking, we are always conscious, however dimly, of something left behind and not appearing on the chart of well-schematized analysis. This “something” is no other than the primary experience of reality in its suchness or is-ness …

The Holy Spirit does not enable us to become the image of God but, rather, is the constant reminder that we already are the image of God. If we allow the Holy Spirit to work in our lives, then we can realize this a-rational identity. A-rational because it does not come from our intellect. We cannot think our way into the image of God. We must experience it in a raw, unprocessed manner.

Ellul: gripping stuff … thank you, John H.

I’ve been lightly skimming (no offense intended ;-) ) the Confessing Evangelical’s posts on Ellul’s What I Believe. But I went back and looked more carefully at The Word That Grips Us and then at the list of Ellul’s other publications on Jesus Radicals. I just want to say a huge “thank you” to John for leading me to Ellul. It looks like fascinating stuff that’s right up my alley and I’m definitely going to read him. Well, I’m definitely going to put him on my stack of books to read. But up near the top! (I’m finding less and less time to read these days.)

Just a comment on The Word That Grips Us

Ellul’s statement:

The revelation is not for me a matter of mystical contemplation. It is more like what many of us are familiar with; a word suddenly becomes so true to us that we can no longer doubt it.

We know well how astonishing this experience can be. I read in the Bible texts that I have read a hundred times, that I know by heart, that are part of my objective knowledge of the biblical God, and suddenly the word that I know so well intellectually takes on an unexpected significance, a blinding force that constrains me to accept it as truth, as a truth at once comprehensible, irrational, and rigorously certain.

seems to me to be precisely “mystical contemplation.” It immediately evoked images of Zen monks achieving a moment of satori or enlightenment as the master raises a finger or slaps across the face. The “contemplation” part was when Ellul read these passage “hundreds of times” and committed them to memory. And the revelation is when you suddenly see what you’ve been staring at. You see it in a totally different from; from a new angle; with “fresh eyes.” It’s been there the whole time but something in you has changed so that you really see.

Now, I don’t know Ellul and of course I can’t speak for him. If he does not consider this as “mystical contemplation” then it’s not. I just can’t help but notice the similarity.

Paradise (Never) Lost

In Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist D.T. Suzuki quotes Meister Eckhart …

I have read many writings both of heathen philosophers and sages, of the Old and New Testaments, and I have earnestly and will all diligence sought the best and the highest virtue whereby man may come most closely to God and wherein he may once more become like the original image as he was in God when there was yet no distinction between God and himself before God produced creatures. And having dived into the basis of things to the best of my ability I find that it is no other than absolute detachment from everything that is created. It was in this sense when our Lord said to Martha: “One thing is needed,” which is to say: He who would be untouched and pure needs just one thing, detachment. [emphasis mine]

This is quite interesting to me and very non-mainstream Christian. Eckhart is saying that man existed before God created anything. But man didn’t exist as man, man existed as an image in God and as an image that was not distinct from God. Does this mean that man was/is God?

What does “no distinction between God and himself” mean? The meaning that first comes to mind is that you can’t tell them apart. Does this mean than man is God? As an analogy, it is most likely possible to produce a counterfeit ten dollar bill that is indistinguishable from a real ten dollar bill. But what would that take? It would take the exact same ink, the exact same paper, an exact duplicate of the plates, and probably a couple other things. But if the “fake” bill uses the same ink and paper and identical plates, is it really fake? Isn’t it really only fake because it wasn’t printed in a sanctioned government mint (or wherever it is that money is printed)? And if this is the only difference, then isn’t it really a genuine bill; fake in name only? In other words, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck …

Then I looked up the word “distinction.” The definition, of course, references “distinct” which has two definitions that seem relevant: 1. distinguished as not being the same; not identical; separate and 2. different in nature or quality; dissimilar. Following these definitions then, Eckhart is saying that man and God are the same, identical, not separate, not different, not dissimilar. This is quite a statement! It is so very reminiscent of the well-known Zen koan: What was your face before your parents were born? Answer that and you’ve discovered your Buddha-nature. Answer that and you’ve discovered God. Answer that and you’ve re-discovered your true, essential Self; the Self not tied to this earthly body, this creature made by God.

Eckhart is also implying that the act of creating man on the sixth day was the act that resulted in the separation (the distinction) between God and man. Being human is being separated from God. Or, more accurately, thinking of our Selves as human — being attached to our humanity, as as such, our separateness from other humans and from God — is being separated from God. Perhaps this is the real reason Jesus became human. We were so intent on pushing God “out there” and then trying to re-bridge the gap with religion but it wasn’t working. We had totally forgotten our origins, our face before our parents were born, our true nature as indistinct from God. Jesus’ humanity demonstrates our actual situation — God (or something indistinct from God) incarnate. That is what we are to emulate in Jesus — his God-nature.

Paradise was never lost because we can’t change what we are. Paradise only seems lost because all our attention is on our humanity. We’ve really just forgotten that we are already in paradise right now. And the solution, as Eckhart says, is “absolute detachment from everything that that is created.” Detachment from our humanity and from our society and our culture. This detachment is exactly what Jesus speaks of when he tells us to not worry and trust in him for everything. It’s what Paul talks about when he tells us to pray without ceasing. It’s having our focus on heaven and storing up riches where thieves do not break in and steal.

More on experience v. theology

Thomas Merton, again, from Zen and the Birds of Appetite:

The best we can say is that in certain religions, Buddhism for instance, the philosophical or religious framework is of a kind that can more easily be discarded, because it has in itself a built-in “ejector,” so to speak, by which the meditator is at a certain point flung out from the conceptual apparatus into the Void. It is possible for a Zen Master to say nonchalantly to his disciple, “If you meet the Buddha, kill him!” But in Christian mysticism the question whether or not the mystic can get along without the human “form” (Gestalt) or the sacred Humanity of Christ is still hotly debated, with the majority opinion definitely maintaining the necessity for the Christ of faith to be present as ikon at the center of Christian contemplation. Here again, the question is confused by the failure to distinguish between the objective theology of Christian experience and the actual psychological facts of Christian mysticism in certain cases. And then one must ask, at what point do the abstract demands of theory take precedence over the psychological facts of experience? Or, to what extent does the theology of a theologian without experience claim to interpret correctly the “experienced theology” of the mystic who is perhaps not able to articulate the meaning of his experience in a satisfactory way?

Everyone espousing a particular theology needs to have a way to distinguish those who believe the same from those who don’t. For the mystic, there is a certain language that is shared which makes no sense to outsiders. For the “theologian without experience” the theology must take on a rigid belief system which must be intellectual since there is no experiential basis. This external theology then requires adherence to sacraments, creeds, and behaviors. This is precisely why mystics have been questionable, at best, and often outcasts. The two theologies have nothing in common and there is a one-way path of communication. The mystic can interpret the other theology in terms of her experiences and thereby gain from participating in the sacraments, creeds, and behaviors. But there is no such understanding going the other direction. The non-experiencing theologian cannot understand the mystic’s theology any more than he can understand a joke told in a foreign language. Therefore, he has no ruler by which to measure the mystical theology’s closeness to his own. The easiest thing to do is condemn her.

And a little later …

On the other hand, let us repeat that we must not neglect the great importance of experience in Christianity. But Christian experience always has a special modality, due to the fact that it is inseparable from the mystery of Christ and the collective life of the Church, the Body of Christ. To experience the mystery of Christ mystically or otherwise is always to transcend the merely individual psychological level and to “experience theologically with the Church” (sentire cum Ecclesia). In other words, this experience must always be in some way reducible to a theological form that can be shared by the rest of the Church or that shows that it is a sharing of what the rest of the Church experiences. There is therefore in the recording of Christian experiences a natural tendency to set them down in language and symbols that are easily accessible to other Christians. This may perhaps sometimes mean an unconscious translation of the inexpressible into familiar symbols that are always at hand ready for immediate use.

Two things for me here but the second will be the subject of its own post. First is the idea that since “experience must always be … reducible to a theological form that can be shared” then there is “a natural tendency to set them down in language and symbols that are easily accessible to other Christians.”

I agree that if you are going to share experience with everyone then it must be reduced down to something concrete that can be passed around. And this is somewhat of a problem for me because by solidifying an experience, you lose so much and gain so little because it’s impossible for someone to partake in your experience who has not had the same experience (or similar) herself. Just imagine trying to share the experience of the color red with someone who has been blind since birth.

But making it “easily accessible” is the real problem for me. If it’s easy then it’s not so precious. I’ve talked on this topic before but I’m coming to realize that this is one of the bigger “issues” I take with Evangelical and Fundamental Christianity. (I hesitate using such adjectives as I know there is a wide range of Evangelicals and Fundamentalists and what I’m saying does not apply to everyone. What I really mean to do is describe the type of Christianity/Christian I am referring to by my description. The old “if the shoe fits …” and it’s up to you to decide if I’m referring to you or not.) But back on point. “Easily accessible” requires a formula. It does not allow for differing experiences of the same thing where these experiences are not trivially reconciled. Everyone must follow the formula or risk being labeled as a heretic.

This leads to legalism and fanaticism, and lends itself extremely well to hypocrisy. As long as you appear to be following the formula, toeing the line, then you are in the right. If you deviate from the formula, it is obvious and are a prime candidate for rebuke or retaliation from those in the right. Worse still, those who only appear to be correct are the ones who most vehemently require absolute compliance from the rest of us for it somehow alleviates the self doubt they secretly harbor. It’s their shadow being projected on others.

It is in such a legalistic context that the sacred symbols of our experience of Christ become the battle grounds of theologians who cannot admit the validity of formulae different from their own. The precise meaning and interpretation of the sacraments, for example, overshadow the experience and actually insulate the Christian from the full experience of Christ. The focus is so strongly fixated on the external details that the experience itself is lost. Whether the bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Jesus or whether they represent the body and blood or whatever should be a distant second in importance to the experience itself of partaking in the death and resurrection of The Christ.

Furthermore, the “easily accessible” formula not only insulates but actually works to prevent the experience because the experiencer has outside constraints on how the experience is to be realized. What one does and how one thinks is dictated by the formula and so one is not free to experience the sacraments, for example, apart from the well-defined, specific, ritual set down by the theologians. It’s like painting by number where you are told exactly what color to use where. That’s not really painting at all. There’s no feeling in it. There’s no connection with the work. There’s no real experience of painting.

The second point is the “set them down in language and symbols” part. Merton has an excellent passage on how we use language which is germane to this point and will be posted later.

Experience v. theology

I recently finished Thomas Merton’s Zen and the Birds of Appetite. Extremely highly recommended. Especially good was his introduction to Wu’s A Christian Look at Zen. Merton must have been a psychic because he addresses so many questions that I’m asking but he definitely is biased towards Christianity. Although I think that last statement may stem from my not having experienced Christianity as he did. He uses phrases like “mystery of Christ” and “word of the Cross” and I can’t help but wonder how deeply he felt these and how shallow the words are for me. But in any case, Merton wrote …

It cannot be repeated too often: in understanding Buddhism it would be a great mistake to concentrate on the “doctrine,” the formulated philosophy of life, and to neglect the experience, which is absolutely essential, the very heart of Buddhism. This is in a sense the exact opposite of the situation in Christianity. For Christianity begins with revelation. Though it would be misleading to classify this revelation simple as a “doctrine” and an “explanation” (it is far more than that—the revelation of God Himself in the mystery of Christ) it is nevertheless communicated to us in words, in statements, and everything depends on the believer’s accepting the truth of these statements.

Therefore Christianity has always been profoundly concerned with these statements: with the accuracy of their transmission from the original sources, with the precise understanding of their exact meaning, with the elimination and indeed the condemnation of false interpretations. At times this concern has been exaggerated almost to the point of an obsession, accompanied by arbitrary and fanatical insistence on hairsplitting distinctions and the purest niceties of theological detail.

This obsession with doctrinal formulas, juridical order and ritual exactitude has often made people forget that the heart of Catholicism, too, is a living experience of unity in Christ which far transcends all conceptual formulations. What too often has been overlooked, in consequence, is that Catholicism is the taste and experience of eternal life: “We announce to the you the eternal life which was with the Father and has appeared to us. What we have seen and have heard we announce to you, in order that you also may have fellowship with us and that our fellowship may be with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ.” (I John 1:2-3) Too often the Catholic has imagined himself obliged to stop short at a mere correct and external belief expressed in good moral behavior, instead of entering fully into the life of hope and love consummated by union with the invisible God “in Christ and in the Spirit,” thus fully sharing in the Divine Nature. (Ephesians 2:18, 2 Peter 1:4, Col. 1:9-17, I John 4:12)

Some of the blogs I pay attention to have been spending a lot of time on points of theology that I just can’t see the relevance of. Whether infant baptism is good/bad/indifferent. The “mechanics” of how Jesus’ death saves. Whether homosexuality is good/bad/indifferent. I don’t understand why people would spend so much time on these “trivial” theological points when they are so far from the point. To me, the only thing theology like that does is divide. The only result of saying “infant baptism is necessary and is proper and does such and such for the child and here are a bunch of verses that prove my point” is that you separate yourself from other Christians who do not hold the same view. When I was growing up in an IFCA church (that’s Independent Fundamental Churches of America), I truly thought that all Lutherans, all Episcopalians, all Catholics, most Methodists, some Presbyterians were going to hell. In sixth grade, I told a classmate who was Catholic that he was not a Christian. All based on differing points of theology.

Too many Christians have forgotten that Christianity is “a living experience of unity in Christ which far transcends all conceptual formulations.” Being a Christian has been reduced to a series of bulleted points that you must initial to show that you claim to believe them. And you have to learn to defend these points with chapter and verse so that you can persuade all heretics you may meet. This is what “defending your faith” has become — quibbling over insignificant points of theology.

Christianity should be the “entering fully into the life of hope and love consummated by union with the invisible God.” How can that be reduced to theology? It’s an experience that must be experienced first hand. It can’t be talked about and reduced to formulas. It’s like smelling a rose, watching a sunset, having an orgasm. You just have to experience it yourself or else you have absolutely no idea what it’s all about.

Fast-acting AND long-lasting

So I’m reading Thomas Merton and D.T. Suzuki on Christian and Buddhist mysticism. I am really feeling a connection with mysticism and how it allows for more than one answer even when the multiple answers appear contradictory. But I’m also feeling very frustrated and … hopeless. I don’t have time for mysticism! I’ve got too little time to deal with my normal, everyday life let alone work on attaining enlightenment. I’m lucky if I get an hour of meditation in a day. It’s especially difficult because the only time I can really meditate is when my daughter takes a nap — late night meditation has not been going well lately. So I’ve got to be ready when she goes to sleep because she sometimes sleeps an hour or less. So, unless I’m “on the cushion” toot sweet, I have to stop “in the middle.” Plus, an hour a day seems trivial and worthless compared to the Desert Fathers who left society to find God. Most of them still had issues years later so how the hell am I supposed to get anywhere still immersed in society and meditating an hour a day?

Where is the get-it-now answer to my problem? Where is the infomercial that promises results before I can finish giving my credit card number? It’s right here, all around us. It’s called mainstream Christianity! The fast-acting and long-lasting solution. Get saved right now and you’re saved forever — and they really mean forever! This is the greatest delusion that Christianity perpetrates on the “lost” but it’s also why it’s so popular — it’s easy.

In a way, it’s too easy. But it’s also the most difficult thing. (paradox — love it!) It’s easy because all you have to do is “believe in Him” and you “shall not perish but have eternal life.” But, at least for me, it’s the most difficult thing because what I have to believe is unbelievable and amazingly incomplete! They make it sound simple. “Accept Jesus Christ into your heart.” In Billy Graham’s column, his answer to every single problem was to accept Jesus into your life. But what the hell does that mean??? No one tells you that. And that’s the great delusion — this one time act, according to them, which can be done in a moment of weakness or desperation or terror, is enough to counterbalance a lifetime of doing the most rotten, despicable, awful, repugnant, evil, vile things imaginable. Salvation, to them, is not a life-long process. It’s one single, solitary, isolated, independent act.

Sure, you’re supposed to grow in your Christian life but how much can you really grow going to church a couple hours a week? At least my parents drug us to church twice on Sundays plus Wednesday nights! And if you don’t make any progress well that’s ok, too, because God’s grace is sufficient and as long as you confess all your shortcomings and you really promise to try harder then it’s all hunky dory. All you really have to do is read your Bible and pray. Well, and look the part. That’s the most important thing — nice suit and tie on Sunday morning to cover up all that you don’t want the rest of them to see.

And there’s sermons on the fruits of the Spirit and how to have the faith-filled life and all that jazz. But those are offset by sermons on eternal security and how Paul even had trouble doing what was right. A little coaxing to keep moving and grow but a lot of reassurance if you just can’t quite do it.

So, go ahead and buy into their delusion if you want to. Convince yourself that going to church on Sunday morning and reading the “feel-good” passages in the Bible are enough. Keep a stiff upper lip during the really bad times so no one knows you have doubts. But that’s not what I’m doing. And I may not get very far in this lifetime but at least I’m trying to do something that means something — to me, at least.

Christianity is like working for the government

Well, it’s like what working for the government used to be. And it’s like what being a tenured professor used to be. In other words, you couldn’t get fired. The ultimate job security. You could sit around and do enough to just get by. And nobody cared a whole lot.

And that’s what Christianity is like. Once you “accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your own personal savior” you’re on easy street. Sure you should go to church and you should read your Bible and you should pray. But, hey, it’s not works that save you. It’s God’s grace. You don’t deserve anything at all from God so going to church or not going to church isn’t going to change anything. Yeah, yeah there’s all that talk about the Fruits of the Spirit and your faith is demonstrated by your works. But really, in the end, all you have to do is “accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your own personal savior.”

Most Christians who do go to church and read their Bibles just end up listening. They listen to the “feel good about yourself and your life” sermons and they listen to encouraging words and rationalizations for why they’re believe what they’re told to believe. How much do they really work at their salvation? How much do they really grow in their relationship with Jesus?

And this is what I was whining about in my last post. Mainstream and Fundamentalist Christianity is all about getting people to believe. What happens after that doesn’t matter because all you have to do is believe. It’s so freakin’ easy that anyone can do it! Which is the attraction. You don’t have to be a monk or in a convent or work at it full time. You don’t have to quit your day job and all your extra curricular activities. Go to church on Sunday morning and you’re good to go. A Wednesday evening prayer meeting (does anyone do that anymore?) once in a while for a little extra credit. From day one, you’re good to go. Accept Jesus Christ one minute, die the next, and you’re being ushered past the pearly gates into your own private mansion on your own private cul-de-sac of gold.

But what about the mystical versions of religions? The mystics have to work. And work hard! A lifetime of meditation, contemplation, introspection. And what happens if a mystic dies the day after she takes up mysticism? Well, she gets to start all over again next time around. Meditation — training the mind — is extremely difficult. But that’s how the mystic encounters God. It’s not an instant conversion type experience.

But there are those of us for whom the easy way out does not work. We desire a much more intimate relationship with God — more intimate than hearing about him while sitting in church on Sunday. More intimate than just reading what he’s said in the past. More intimate than talking to the wall and pretending he’s listening. And so, because we desire more, we must work more. And so, I’ll get back on “the cushion” tomorrow and meditate again. Take the good days with the bad. I’ll think about true mystics like Suzuki, Merton, Eckhart, Wilber, etc. who were/are much further along the path than I’ll ever be in this lifetime and I’ll be envious of them. I’ll even bitch and moan a little bit about it but I’ll still get back on the cushion tomorrow.