In contemplating the most accurate way to describe my own religious affiliation (should I be asked by fellow churchgoers), I have given long thought to one my good friend's approaches of responding according to the primary religious model and/or framework that has shaped one's outlook on life; which for us is the person of Jesus.
I was reminded of this approach after my friend refered me to Malcolm Dalglish’s hymn “Paradise” where Jesus is imaged as the “flame that lights the way.” I could really relate to my friend's reflection that- even if he doesn’t believe in certain Christian doctrines- there are still those aspects of Jesus' "life, teaching, example, and person” that serve as “the light by which (we) discern things.”
I totally agree.
Although I think Jesus went way too far in some of the things he was believed to have said and despite the fact that I have serious intellectual difficulty in (1) embracing his ideas about otherworldly matters, (2) accepting the authority he seems to assume for himself and (3) believing the Gospel’s miracle stories as historical facts, I still admire Jesus greatly and find wisdom in his approach to life, humility, conflict-resolution, service and ethics. As I have said before, I blame his Good Samaritan story for making me a humanist!
All that to say, I cannot deny that my personal outlook on life has been profoundly shaped by the one they called Jesus.
I consider myself to be an "admirer of Jesus." It seems too dishonest for me to say I am a “follower of Jesus” considering that- in the most literal sense- I have not done what those characters in the Gospels who actually followed Jesus were asked to do; I’d dare say that few of us who confidently claim allegiance to Jesus' way us have actually gone that far with it. I suspect that those of us who attend Christian churches have fashioned an easier, more formulaic, less-demanding and distorted form of Jesus’ gospel in order to make us feel better about failing to actually emulate his example.
Even though I’m pretty far along in my discarding of traditional Christian dogma, I do take the idea of following Jesus seriously and wish more people allowed themselves room to really “count the cost” and consider the implications of such a major commitment.In light of this, I try to use the life of Jesus (primarily based on my reading of the Synoptic Gospels) as a guiding model and hermeneutic to discern his interests and priorities from those of the early Church. I, like many others who have pursued this line of thought, think there is a profound difference in the two.
Before I realized how unoriginal this notion was, I had long wondered: Why does the Jesus who preached the "Sermon on the Mount" seem so far removed from the emphasized teachings and practices of the contemporary Christian church? Why was the Sermon on the Mount’s “almost-humanistic” Jesus (so practical and so human) seem so different from the ethereal and cosmic character of The Savior Christ that millions of individuals worship and call upon? Why do I gravitate to the former figure while so many gravitate to the latter?
How refreshing it would be if my Christian brothers and sisters could at least admit that many of our contemporary churches tend to emphasize and demand conformity in things that Jesus didn’t seem to stress about (i.e., the great commission to “go ye therefore”, public prayer, adherence to notions of biblical inerrancy, papal infallibility, advancing pro-Christian political agendas, condemning homosexuality, creationism, intimidating non-Christians and “sinners” with the threat of hell, the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s acceptance of certain doctrines, etc.) whereas Jesus himself seemed to stress a lot of things that many of our more dogmatic evangelical churches seem to downplay (i.e., the great commandment to “love God and neighbor”, loving and praying for one’s enemies, selling all possessions and giving to the poor, being non-violent, being merciful, forbidding divorce, praying only in private, being service-minded, turning the other cheek, intimidating the apathetic religious hypocrites of his day with the threat of hell, and the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s compassionate behavior/willingness to forgive others, etc.).
How I wish I could get more of my Christian friends to at least agree with me on that point!I also can’t help but notice how many “bible-believing churches” base their beliefs and faith claims on things that Jesus was likely to have never said (for example, the material found primarily in the Gospel of John and the New Testament letters).
Though I am visiting, I refuse to ever join a church that seeks to teach me how to frame the world into an “us-versus-them” of believers and “hell-bound” non-believers; that teaches young children to reject the most credible scientific insights; that teaches members how to suppress the faculty of reason; and who actively pressure children and adults into professing “a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior.”
I say that is only one understanding of the gospel, and- thank goodness- not the only way.
Where are the fellowships that focus more on teaching congregants how to cultivate the fortitude to forgive others “seventy times seven;” how to develop the maturity and contentment needed to part ways with self-absorption and mindless consumerism; how to use what you have to serve those who are in need; how to regularly escape to quiet, secluded places to pray mindfully; how to empathize with the outcasts, orphans and widows; and how to evangelize without words by extending merciful “Samaritan” hands to those of different cultures, beliefs and traditions?
Does one have to become a Buddhist or a mystic in order to engage in spiritual practices that would help them to live closer to the way of Jesus?
Showing posts with label Credo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Credo. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Reflection on "My Easy God is Gone," a poem by James Kavanaugh
Yesterday evening as I drove to pick up my daughter from daycare, I was listening to a podcast that cited “My Easy God is Gone,” a confessional poem written by former Catholic priest and renowned wordsmith James Kavanaugh. Before this point, I had never heard of Kavanaugh; but as his transparent sentiments were read aloud, I found many of his lyrical phrasings resonating with my own experience of disillusionment in regards to the personal God in which I used to believe. Kavanaugh’s powerful poem takes meticulous account of what he has lost in abandoning his earlier notions of God, expresses relief for having shed his former ideas and then proceeds to celebrate the reclaiming of his own sensitive humanity.
Kavanaugh notes that he has “lost” his “easy God” and has abandoned the constrictive dogma that too often rendered his own human experiences devoid of meaning and value. Kavanaugh grieves at how the “easy God” of his childhood “took all mystery away, corroded my imagination, controlled the stars and would not let them speak for themselves.” He boldly declares that, despite his childhood indoctrination into the creeds of his faith tradition, the “maxims memorized in boyhood do not make fruitless and pointless my experience.” He proclaims, “I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was turned to manhood in a brutal myth.” Kavanaugh seems to express a relieved sigh of freedom with honest lines like, “I walk alone, but not so terrified as when He held my hand.”
Yes, like Kavanaugh, I too feel that “some fierce umbilical is broken.” As my wife and I visit different churches (both liberal and conservative), I sit through worship services and feel jarringly distant and removed from what is going on- almost like a disinterested anthropologist sent from a foreign land to study the religious experiences of my fellow human beings. Yet, though I feel removed, I remain keenly aware of my own ignorance while also being appreciative and grateful for the myriad of meaningful experiences that have formed my personality and shaped my character.
I don’t know much about James Kavanaugh, but I sought to know more about the life that created such a moving piece. Somehow I sense a kindred spirit in Kavanaugh, one that belongs to a restless explorer whose thirst for inquiry refuses to settle for pat answers and outdated explanations. I appreciate that Kavanaugh’s poetry affirms the significance of mystery, human fallibility and adaptability, the wonders of love, the regenerative power of painful experiences and the creative resourcefulness with which we humans derive meaning from it all.
Like Kavanaugh, I am still willing to consider the idea that “God” may exist as some vague force or pulsating creative power that exists beyond the human capacity to understand or explain; However, I am more convinced than ever that “God” does not exist as a personal and tribal deity who picks favorites, conveys its crucial message to a handful of ordained spokespersons and intervenes in the physical world through supernatural and miraculous means.
In the Preface to his book, Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves, Kavanaugh says:
"My Easy God is Gone"
by James Kavanaugh
I have lost my easy God –
the one whose name I knew since childhood.
I knew his temper, his sullen outrage, his ritual forgiveness.
I knew the strength of his arm,
the sound of his insistent voice.
His beard bristling, his lips full and red
with moisture at the moustache,
His eyes clear and piercing,
too blue to understand all,
His face too unwrinkled to feel my child’s pain.
He was a good God - so he told me -
a long suffering and manageable one.
I knelt at his feet and kissed them.
I felt the smooth countenance of his forgiveness.
I never told him how he frightened me,
How he followed me as a child,
When I played with friends or begged
for candy on Halloween.
He was a predictable God,
I was the unpredictable one.
He was unchanging, omnipotent, all-seeing,
I was volatile and helpless.
He taught me to thank him for the concern
which gave me no chance to breathe,
For the love which demanded only love in
return - and obedience.
He made pain sensible and patience possible
and the future foreseeable.
He, the mysterious, took all mystery away,
corroded my imagination,
Controlled the stars and would not let
them speak for themselves.
Now he haunts me seldom:
some fierce umbilical is broken,
I live with my own fragile hopes and
sudden rising despair.
Now I do not weep for my sins;
I have learned to love them.
And to know that they are the wounds that
make love real.
His face eludes me; his voice, with all
its pity, does not ring in my ear.
His maxims memorized in boyhood do not
make fruitless and pointless my experience.
I walk alone,
but not so terrified as when he held my hand.
I do not splash in the blood of his son
nor hear the crunch of nails or thorns
piercing protesting flesh.
I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was
turned to manhood in a brutal myth.
Now wine is only wine
with drops that do not taste of blood.
The bread I eat has too much pride for transubstantiation,
I, too - and together the bread and I embrace,
Each grateful to be what we are,
each loving from our own reality.
Now the bread is warm in my mouth and
I am warm in its mouth as well.
Now my easy God is gone –
he knew too much to be real,
He talked too much to listen,
he knew my words before I spoke.
But I knew his answers as well –
computerized and turned to dogma.
His stamp was on my soul, his law locked
cross-like on my heart,
His imperatives tattooed on my breast, his
aloofness canonized in ritual.
Now he is gone - my easy, stuffy God - God,
the father - master, the mother - whiner, the
dull, whoring God who offered love bought
by an infant’s fear.
Now the world is mine with all its pain and
warmth, with its every color and sound;
The setting sun is my priest with the ocean for its altar.
The rising sun redeems me with rolling
waves warmed in its arms.
A dog barks and I weep to be alive, a
cat studies me and my job is boundless.
I lie on the grass and boy-like, search the sky.
The clouds do not turn to angels, the winds
do not whisper of heaven or hell.
Perhaps I have no God - what does it matter?
I have beauty and joy and transcending loneliness,
I have the beginning of love - as beautiful as it
is feeble - as free as it is human.
I have the mountains that whisper secrets
held before men could speak,
I have the oceans that belches life on
the beach and caresses it in the sand,
I have a friend who smiles when he sees me,
who weeps when he hears my pain,
I have a future of wonder.
I have no past - the steps have disappeared
the wind has blown them away.
I stand in the heavens and on earth, I feel the breeze in my hair,
I can drink to the North Star and shout on a bar stool,
I can feel the teeth of a hangover, the joy of laziness,
The flush of my own rudeness,
the surge of my own ineptitude.
And I can know my own gentleness
as well as my wonder, my nobility.
I sense the call of creation,
I feel its swelling in my hands.
I can lust and love, eat and drink, sleep and rise,
But my easy God is gone - and in his stead
The mystery of loneliness and love!
Kavanaugh notes that he has “lost” his “easy God” and has abandoned the constrictive dogma that too often rendered his own human experiences devoid of meaning and value. Kavanaugh grieves at how the “easy God” of his childhood “took all mystery away, corroded my imagination, controlled the stars and would not let them speak for themselves.” He boldly declares that, despite his childhood indoctrination into the creeds of his faith tradition, the “maxims memorized in boyhood do not make fruitless and pointless my experience.” He proclaims, “I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was turned to manhood in a brutal myth.” Kavanaugh seems to express a relieved sigh of freedom with honest lines like, “I walk alone, but not so terrified as when He held my hand.”
Yes, like Kavanaugh, I too feel that “some fierce umbilical is broken.” As my wife and I visit different churches (both liberal and conservative), I sit through worship services and feel jarringly distant and removed from what is going on- almost like a disinterested anthropologist sent from a foreign land to study the religious experiences of my fellow human beings. Yet, though I feel removed, I remain keenly aware of my own ignorance while also being appreciative and grateful for the myriad of meaningful experiences that have formed my personality and shaped my character.
I don’t know much about James Kavanaugh, but I sought to know more about the life that created such a moving piece. Somehow I sense a kindred spirit in Kavanaugh, one that belongs to a restless explorer whose thirst for inquiry refuses to settle for pat answers and outdated explanations. I appreciate that Kavanaugh’s poetry affirms the significance of mystery, human fallibility and adaptability, the wonders of love, the regenerative power of painful experiences and the creative resourcefulness with which we humans derive meaning from it all.
Like Kavanaugh, I am still willing to consider the idea that “God” may exist as some vague force or pulsating creative power that exists beyond the human capacity to understand or explain; However, I am more convinced than ever that “God” does not exist as a personal and tribal deity who picks favorites, conveys its crucial message to a handful of ordained spokespersons and intervenes in the physical world through supernatural and miraculous means.
In the Preface to his book, Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves, Kavanaugh says:
"I will probably be a searcher until I die and hopefully death itself will only be another adventure. To live any other way seems impossible. If anything has changed over the years, and it has, I only feel more confident now about what I wrote then. I am far more aware of the power that guides each of us along the way, and provides us with the insights and people we need for our journey. There are, indeed, men and women too gentle to live among wolves and only when joined with them will life offer the searcher, step by step, all that is good and beautiful. Life becomes not a confused struggle or pointless pain, but an evolving mosaic masterpiece of the person we were destined to become."Below is the complete version of James Kavanaugh's poem “My Easy God is Gone.”
"My Easy God is Gone"
by James Kavanaugh
I have lost my easy God –
the one whose name I knew since childhood.
I knew his temper, his sullen outrage, his ritual forgiveness.
I knew the strength of his arm,
the sound of his insistent voice.
His beard bristling, his lips full and red
with moisture at the moustache,
His eyes clear and piercing,
too blue to understand all,
His face too unwrinkled to feel my child’s pain.
He was a good God - so he told me -
a long suffering and manageable one.
I knelt at his feet and kissed them.
I felt the smooth countenance of his forgiveness.
I never told him how he frightened me,
How he followed me as a child,
When I played with friends or begged
for candy on Halloween.
He was a predictable God,
I was the unpredictable one.
He was unchanging, omnipotent, all-seeing,
I was volatile and helpless.
He taught me to thank him for the concern
which gave me no chance to breathe,
For the love which demanded only love in
return - and obedience.
He made pain sensible and patience possible
and the future foreseeable.
He, the mysterious, took all mystery away,
corroded my imagination,
Controlled the stars and would not let
them speak for themselves.
Now he haunts me seldom:
some fierce umbilical is broken,
I live with my own fragile hopes and
sudden rising despair.
Now I do not weep for my sins;
I have learned to love them.
And to know that they are the wounds that
make love real.
His face eludes me; his voice, with all
its pity, does not ring in my ear.
His maxims memorized in boyhood do not
make fruitless and pointless my experience.
I walk alone,
but not so terrified as when he held my hand.
I do not splash in the blood of his son
nor hear the crunch of nails or thorns
piercing protesting flesh.
I am a boy again - I whose boyhood was
turned to manhood in a brutal myth.
Now wine is only wine
with drops that do not taste of blood.
The bread I eat has too much pride for transubstantiation,
I, too - and together the bread and I embrace,
Each grateful to be what we are,
each loving from our own reality.
Now the bread is warm in my mouth and
I am warm in its mouth as well.
Now my easy God is gone –
he knew too much to be real,
He talked too much to listen,
he knew my words before I spoke.
But I knew his answers as well –
computerized and turned to dogma.
His stamp was on my soul, his law locked
cross-like on my heart,
His imperatives tattooed on my breast, his
aloofness canonized in ritual.
Now he is gone - my easy, stuffy God - God,
the father - master, the mother - whiner, the
dull, whoring God who offered love bought
by an infant’s fear.
Now the world is mine with all its pain and
warmth, with its every color and sound;
The setting sun is my priest with the ocean for its altar.
The rising sun redeems me with rolling
waves warmed in its arms.
A dog barks and I weep to be alive, a
cat studies me and my job is boundless.
I lie on the grass and boy-like, search the sky.
The clouds do not turn to angels, the winds
do not whisper of heaven or hell.
Perhaps I have no God - what does it matter?
I have beauty and joy and transcending loneliness,
I have the beginning of love - as beautiful as it
is feeble - as free as it is human.
I have the mountains that whisper secrets
held before men could speak,
I have the oceans that belches life on
the beach and caresses it in the sand,
I have a friend who smiles when he sees me,
who weeps when he hears my pain,
I have a future of wonder.
I have no past - the steps have disappeared
the wind has blown them away.
I stand in the heavens and on earth, I feel the breeze in my hair,
I can drink to the North Star and shout on a bar stool,
I can feel the teeth of a hangover, the joy of laziness,
The flush of my own rudeness,
the surge of my own ineptitude.
And I can know my own gentleness
as well as my wonder, my nobility.
I sense the call of creation,
I feel its swelling in my hands.
I can lust and love, eat and drink, sleep and rise,
But my easy God is gone - and in his stead
The mystery of loneliness and love!
Monday, February 25, 2008
The need to revisit my personal credo
I am an explorer. I am one of those people who enjoys the “thoughtful consideration” of new possibilities, insights and potential truths as I try not to be too quick to discount the validity of an idea. This personality trait (in addition to my skepticism) doesn’t earn me a lot of fans in the circles of dogmatic individuals who seek to enforce doctrinal and ideological conformity. In most cases, it makes me a threat. But in my view, questions considered to be "threatening" often serve as invitations to a closer examination of both ourselves and our surroundings.
I have grown convinced that many contemporary scientific and philosophical insights about reality have rendered more traditional ways of thinking both irrelevant and obsolete. Therefore, I am primarily interested in researching and finding new ways to holistically integrate scientific insights and the complexities of reality with the insights of the world’s religious and non-religious traditions and philosophies in order to create a more meaningful, relevant, credible and practical ethic of life. This pursuit has consumed much of my time, energy and attention over the past few years.
But at this point in my life, I feel a growing need to clarify my personal views for both myself and those close to me. Knowing myself, I tend to leave people “in the dark” in regards to how I think about and connect various ideas (especially the more “radical” ones). Ironically, I work in the communications field but I find that I often under-communicate with those close to me and get frustrated when these same individuals don’t understand me. I haven’t been the clearest communicator with those whom I have personal relationships- especially when the topic is a “high-stake” issue like belief. But by neglecting to organize my thoughts I have found that it is possible to hold an intellectual position so long that you can forget the core reasons as to why you accepted and adopted such a viewpoint in the first place. It’s not that I have totally forgotten how I arrived at certain viewpoints, but if I were asked to explain “where I come down” at a moment’s notice, my reply would likely come out more nebulous than clear.
In such instances, I think it’s beneficial to regularly reexamine one’s views so that one can better articulate them when it is necessary. This is not easy. Admittedly, I have developed both mental and psychological fatigue in the process of assembling the “puzzle pieces” of my research. It seems that as soon as I add new a component, I forget an older one. The complexity of the task continues to overwhelm me as I have been going about it in a very disorganized and “scatter-brained” way.
Therefore, I have recently decided to organize my efforts so that I can be more effective and efficient. First, I will begin organizing my findings and reflections into compartmentalized folders. In these folders I will save pertinent materials (quotes, passages, statistics, findings, etc.) for quick reference. Second, I will then break my project down into smaller, more manageable bites where I will write several in-depth pieces exploring the systematic framing of my personal theological/philosophical/ethical outlook. I know organization is an elementary idea for some folks, but it is a revolutionary concept for me.
In the coming weeks, I will explore my personal philosophies about prayer, God, Jesus, the Bible, divine revelation, salvation, sin, supernaturalism, miracles, suffering, and evil. I will do so with the understanding that, in traditional Christianity, many of these issues are interconnected to the point that a shift of belief in one part will affect all other components. I also plan to touch on topics such as human nature, genetic diversity, evolution, human sexuality, justice and creativity. I will also do this with the understanding that my views will likely continue to develop over time.
Now I must clarify that in no way do I think I am exploring any uncharted territory here. For the past several centuries, many gifted philosophers, scientists and expert theologians have dedicated their lives to writing thick volumes about many of the topics I am interested in exploring. Rather, I am doing this to fulfill a personal need for clarity and understanding inspired by truth-seekers like Mohandas K. Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. who were able to convert years of intense scholarship into lives of unselfish service. I hope such an in-depth period of self-examination and exploration of "the dark side of the moon" might result in the sharpening of my focus and the strengthening of my convictions.
It is also my hope that this process will serve as a sort of “time capsule” that can capture and articulate where my thoughts are at the present moment. All of this should result in the formation of a revised credo- a statement of beliefs, convictions and guiding principles. The result will by no means be exhaustive, but it is my hope that this process will draw me closer to some firm and well-reasoned conclusions on a variety of complicated matters. I hope this process will help me to see whether or not I really have firm ground on which my ideas stand.
I will try to visit at least one topic each week. The first topic I plan to visit is the issue of prayer. We'll see how it goes.
I have grown convinced that many contemporary scientific and philosophical insights about reality have rendered more traditional ways of thinking both irrelevant and obsolete. Therefore, I am primarily interested in researching and finding new ways to holistically integrate scientific insights and the complexities of reality with the insights of the world’s religious and non-religious traditions and philosophies in order to create a more meaningful, relevant, credible and practical ethic of life. This pursuit has consumed much of my time, energy and attention over the past few years.
But at this point in my life, I feel a growing need to clarify my personal views for both myself and those close to me. Knowing myself, I tend to leave people “in the dark” in regards to how I think about and connect various ideas (especially the more “radical” ones). Ironically, I work in the communications field but I find that I often under-communicate with those close to me and get frustrated when these same individuals don’t understand me. I haven’t been the clearest communicator with those whom I have personal relationships- especially when the topic is a “high-stake” issue like belief. But by neglecting to organize my thoughts I have found that it is possible to hold an intellectual position so long that you can forget the core reasons as to why you accepted and adopted such a viewpoint in the first place. It’s not that I have totally forgotten how I arrived at certain viewpoints, but if I were asked to explain “where I come down” at a moment’s notice, my reply would likely come out more nebulous than clear.
In such instances, I think it’s beneficial to regularly reexamine one’s views so that one can better articulate them when it is necessary. This is not easy. Admittedly, I have developed both mental and psychological fatigue in the process of assembling the “puzzle pieces” of my research. It seems that as soon as I add new a component, I forget an older one. The complexity of the task continues to overwhelm me as I have been going about it in a very disorganized and “scatter-brained” way.
Therefore, I have recently decided to organize my efforts so that I can be more effective and efficient. First, I will begin organizing my findings and reflections into compartmentalized folders. In these folders I will save pertinent materials (quotes, passages, statistics, findings, etc.) for quick reference. Second, I will then break my project down into smaller, more manageable bites where I will write several in-depth pieces exploring the systematic framing of my personal theological/philosophical/ethical outlook. I know organization is an elementary idea for some folks, but it is a revolutionary concept for me.
In the coming weeks, I will explore my personal philosophies about prayer, God, Jesus, the Bible, divine revelation, salvation, sin, supernaturalism, miracles, suffering, and evil. I will do so with the understanding that, in traditional Christianity, many of these issues are interconnected to the point that a shift of belief in one part will affect all other components. I also plan to touch on topics such as human nature, genetic diversity, evolution, human sexuality, justice and creativity. I will also do this with the understanding that my views will likely continue to develop over time.
Now I must clarify that in no way do I think I am exploring any uncharted territory here. For the past several centuries, many gifted philosophers, scientists and expert theologians have dedicated their lives to writing thick volumes about many of the topics I am interested in exploring. Rather, I am doing this to fulfill a personal need for clarity and understanding inspired by truth-seekers like Mohandas K. Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. who were able to convert years of intense scholarship into lives of unselfish service. I hope such an in-depth period of self-examination and exploration of "the dark side of the moon" might result in the sharpening of my focus and the strengthening of my convictions.
It is also my hope that this process will serve as a sort of “time capsule” that can capture and articulate where my thoughts are at the present moment. All of this should result in the formation of a revised credo- a statement of beliefs, convictions and guiding principles. The result will by no means be exhaustive, but it is my hope that this process will draw me closer to some firm and well-reasoned conclusions on a variety of complicated matters. I hope this process will help me to see whether or not I really have firm ground on which my ideas stand.
I will try to visit at least one topic each week. The first topic I plan to visit is the issue of prayer. We'll see how it goes.
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