In Suzanne's experience she sees this as a certain kind of Catholic aberration whose formation didn't get beyond the most famous passage of the Baltimore Catechism: Q. 150. Why did God make you? A. God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in the next.
But what I am most reminded of is an experience I had as a child among the Buddhist friends of my best friend's family. On one occasion, a small group gathered to chant their sacred text. Someone, I don't remember if it was me or my friend or someone else, was whispering or chatting quietly in the back of the room. What I do remember is a firm and sharp "shush" from one of the chanters. This made a strong impression on me, and it came to mind as I later studied and read more about Buddhism's concern for the complete effort of the individual to enter into this pure place of harmony, peace, enlightenment. It is the greatest affront to have one's path to this enlightenment beset by some sloppy individual fumbling his humanity all over it. While these Buddhists were great friends and welcomed the lonely and supported one another in their needs, when it came down to their spiritual path, it was absolutely a solo effort to attain one's own peace. The vision: your mere humanity impedes my perfection.
When I go below the surface of this memorable "shush," I find the vast difference between Christianity and everything else. Christianity is the faith of the Incarnation. Everything that is human is taken up in Christ and is welcomed into His mission. Ours is not a call to escape the illusion of this created world for a spiritual truth that lies beyond it. Ours is a call to embrace all of the created order, and especially humanity -- especially our fellow human beings and their fumbling humanity -- with the same love of the Father that is revealed in the God-Man, Jesus Christ. The Incarnation is the way God has chosen to reveal Himself and is the principle by which He works in the universe.
One phrase that has always gotten me confused when discussing this type of spirituality (which I must say I cannot relate to personally) is labeling this a "Jesus and me" approach to faith. I understand now that people have meant "Jesus and me" as a type of escape from the real Jesus who unites us in His body. I would call this simply a "me" spirituality, or just a religiosity, a love of religious practice for the perk my work gives me. I have always understood "Jesus and me" to refer to a personal relationship with Christ, as opposed to a formalistic relationship to a cultural religious identity instead of a Person.
So, how do we possibly get a Catholicism that has this Incarnation principle carved away from it? I don't think it is ever that blunt, and few people, if anyone, set out to say "I reject the incarnational principle through which the Holy Spirit unites me with the Body of Christ, sharing one life with all who are joined together by Him. I simply am able to fulfill the Lord's desires alone, by my own effort." Rather, I think it is when we get irritated by other people, by their injustices, their inconsideration, their shortcomings, and we let unforgiveness and bitterness fester and grow, that we decide that we are really better off, we are purer Christians, we can become holier, without them. I am reminded of the Billy Joel song "My Life" ("I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life/Go ahead with your own life, and leave me alone"). This post that I came across last night gives a humorous but poignant example of how, in certain Protestant cultures at least, the religious peer pressure can be enough to drive one batty. Someone get me the oxygen!
If we look around at our fellow Christians and find nothing more but a bunch of anal sphincters, why bother seeking unity?
It's simple. Jesus wills it. We need to back up and own our need to repent of bitterness and forgive hurts and injustices. There's a little principle Romans 2:1 that essentially says when we pass judgment on others we ourselves do the same things. So if I see only sphinctery type folks around me and find myself resisting communion with them, I might examine how I am acting this very way to others. It is the fiery love of God that transforms hearts. What could fit us all better, as this is what we all are made for and long for.
Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. (Col. 3:12-15)
5 comments:
I'm one of your biggest fans, Marie, but this post really got under my skin.
How can we "love God" without a community? How can we "be good" without a community? How can we "make sure you get your sins forgiven" without a community? And what about heaven? Isn't that also intrinsically tied to the community? How is it, then, as you suggest, that community is missing from that statement? There's nothing solo or moralistic about it when the task is taken in its totality.
Additionally, the missing link between "make sure you get your sins forgiven" and "unity" is that sin destroys communion. Love, communion, unity, all these have a structure - this notion is immensely incarnational. To behave in ways that violate that structure - even a simple lie - is to chip away at unity. There's a reason why the Church articulates how we should and should not behave, that is, because we are made in a certain way for which certain actions and interactions undermine our own humanity and violate the humanity of others. Sin damages unity. The good news, as you know, is that Christ paid that debt for us if we turn to him and, if necessary, to the ones we have offended, acknowledge the sin, and ask forgiveness. And, at least the last time I checked, there is no shortcut in that process. Sometimes the notion that we should "just all love one another" (not your words, I know) is actually the more "Jesus and me" position.
We shouldn't mind looking around and seeing only anal sphincters, engaging with them, being one of and one with them. But if there aren't some common ground-rules to which we hope they have at least ascribed or to which we have seen evidence that they want to subscribe to, even if they don't succeed, there's really no hope of unity.
To take your example, while it is not nice to sternly "shush" someone, I think we can all agree that silent prayer is difficult and sometimes impossible when others are being disruptive. And if others continually make noise in the sanctuary because they don't think sanctuaries are places to be quiet and they are not open to being quiet (I'm talking about adults here, not children), any reasonable person who takes prayer and his own human nature seriously would go somewhere else to pray.
Hi Angela,
I've read your comment over a few times, as carefully as I can right now, and I don't really find anything you've said that I disagree with.
I guess I'm not really responding to what Suzanne is looking at and saying I see the same thing (as far as a spirituality derived from a certain view of the Baltimore catechism is concerned). I'm grappling with what the end product is when the incarnational principle gets cloudy, or when Christians really are more Buddhist-like in their thinking, because that is something I can relate to.
Real love of God does require us to love our neighbor. Real goodness does require us to be good to other real people.
I do think there is a way in which we can either fool ourselves or simply avoid thinking about/evaluating the degree to which we include others in our vision of what it means to love God and our neighbor. That has been my experience at least. I remember as a teen rehearsing over and over my hatred for another person, and then being struck by the passage in St. John that says we cannot love God if we hate our brother. It was more of a surprise to me than anything. I truly wondered if I could take it seriously. (But I can't chalk this experience up to the Baltimore Catechism as I'd never heard of it as a Lutheran.) It was years later that I actually took steps to reconcile with this person. i really was too busy being religious and "pure" in the meantime.
About the "shush," I should add that the effect at the time was that I was deeply impressed by the chanter's concentration. (I thrive in silence, so I am not just talking about a love for silence as "inhuman." I don't believe it is, nor do I believe it is inhuman to even prefer to be alone than with others!) But the subtle difference comes perhaps more in how I saw the lifestyle play out over many years (among these Buddhists), because I really did see that "religious pursuit" trumped human love. This was also me ALL OVER when I was called to the Catholic Church. I was sooo hyper religious and truly believed that loving God was what I was all about 24/7, but plop a human next to me and I was a mess. It was easier to squeeze blood from a stone than charity from me. I didn't know how.
A lot of that mess reminds me of maybe the one thing I do contend with in what you said. (And that is seeing self or anyone "sphincterly".) I always tell my kids (ok, my son) that he is no more allowed to berate himself than anyone else. So, while I understand seeing oneself in the same "anal sphincter" boat as everyone else (and far prefer that only judging someone else to fit that description), I guess I would prefer more charity to be exercised towards oneself as well. Maybe that we are all "grains of sand" is a better metaphor. So much of why I judged others as such poor excuses for humanity was that I mercilessly hated myself in the first place. When I came to look at myself tenderly I could come to give room, and tenderness, to people around me. It had to happen in me before I could know how to give to others. I'm still learning...
Thanks for your thoughts.
I didn't think you disagreed with what I said, since that would be a presumption I'm not in a position to make. What you wrote just stirred something up in me. I'm not so good, as you know by now, at sounding all soft and nice when I go after an idea, so I appreciate your kindness very much!
What you say reminds me of "The Screwtape Letters" where Wormwood is told to convince the victim that those around him are repulsive and unworthy of even sitting in the same pew with him. Obviously, you mean the reverse of what Screwtape means! I think, also, that you are right to say that we should be more merciful on ourselves. I think I'm pretty good at that while at the same time being honest about my shortcomings. How many doors to others that opens! There's always room to improve, though!
Thanks, as always, for both sticking to your guns and being gracious at the same time! I appreciate the great gift you have been given.
p.s. there's still a batty "script" that keeps bogging down my browser on your site.
I'll try disconnecting the geography game; let me know if that helps your browser.
Feel free to have at it with any idea you wish that arises here at Naru Hodo. I'm not big on discerning/noticing soft and nice or harsh and mean for that matter! In my view, ideas are made for sinking one's teeth into and tugging against. Or something like that.
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