Category Archives: Faith and Spirituality

The New Way

Fall                                                                              Samhain Moon

Latin today, a good lesson.  I forgot basics, stumbled around, thought I had it when I didn’t.  So why keep banging my forehead against the solid wall of the Roman language?  There’s no reason, no necessity.  Just like the MOOC’s I’m taking are not necessary.

When Kate pressed me on taking two MOOC’s at once, I replied, “I never took less than 18-20 credits a quarter in college.  Graduated with way more credits than I needed.”  She looked at me. “You’re not in college anymore.”  There’s that.

In my defense I did set one aside, so I only took two instead of three.  That’s progress, right?

No, there’s something deeper going on here, I know that.  Learning keeps my mind vital, alert, attentive.  It helps me jump out of ruts into new territory.  I’ve always been curious what’s beyond the limits, the city limits, the college rules limit, the religious limits, the limits of the universe.  Liminal spaces are my favorite, places where two worlds intersect, a little blurry, mostly undefined.  In the past, the now distant past, I used to get there chemically, now books and movies and essays and thoughts and the shovel and the quiet mind and the open heart, they get me there instead.

I want to stand on the shore looking out, stand on the peak looking over the valleys, stand at the mouth of the cave looking in, then follow my gaze.  See what’s beyond safe ground. I hope I never lose that desire.  In fact, I hope I have it when I’m facing death, wondering what’s just beyond the safe ground of life itself.  But not, as my ENT doc said, for a long time.

God is the zocalo of Western religious life.

Fall                                                                     Samhain Moon

 

Last night I dreamed of a place where reality could be reconfigured only by imagining.  Though I don’t remember many specifics, I do remember that at the close of the dream I wondered if the same process could put us in different historical eras, not just different places in current time.

This led, after waking, to a continuation of the dream space to the matter of the modern and post-modern, much on my mind these days thanks to the two MOOCs I’m taking. Having read Wittgenstein on language games from his Philosophical Investigations and his attendant critique of the really real as inaccessible at best since words do not hook onto reality, only other words (a paraphrase), somehow the Zocalo came to mind.

Kate and I visited Mexico City in the 1993.  It impressed me then that at the very center of the Federal District, with the National Cathedral on one side and the National Palace on the other was a vast empty space, the zocalo.   The idea of a country with a vast open square at the very heart of its national culture appealed and appeals to me.

Mexicans fill the zocalo often.  On September 15th at 11 pm, the President comes out on a balcony of the National Palace and delivers a grito, a cry that remembers the “grito de Delores” or the cry of Mexican independence first heard in the small town of Delores.  At other times the military parades through the zocalo.  Recently it has been filled with striking teachers trying to turn back education reform.  Each spring equinox Mexico’s ethnic groups, la raza, fill the zocalo with a celebration through which they assert their critical importance to the nation as a whole.

With Wittgenstein in the background and in particular his emphasis that meaning is use, that is, we learn the meaning of our language from the contexts in which we use it, the zocalo and God suddenly merged.  God is the zocalo of Western religious life.

What do I mean?  God is the empty square at the heart of Western religious and political culture.  Over the course of two thousand years various groups from Judaism to Christianity to Muslims and many, many diverse splinters of all these groups have gathered in the square to give their grito.  At the time they fill the square they occupy the center of the culture’s awareness. (Note:  this is not at all, to the contrary in fact, a truth claim about what they say there.)

This same square also receives those who would fill it with alternative metaphysical or anti-metaphysical ideas.  Nietzsche, God is dead.  The square was empty and continues to be empty.  Nature is god.  The pantheists.  Even those who would entertain the world of many gods, contemporary polytheists like Wiccans and Astruans, have to enter the God/zocalo to make their proclamations over against this central Western idea.

This means that God is, for the group occupying the God/zocalo, what they say God is. That is, the way they use the concept of God in the square is what God is to them.  Use gives meaning.  Context gives meaning.

How is this helpful?  It helps me understand that faith, that word I’ve been trying to reimagine over the last couple of years, is not about a transcendental claim at all, but rather is a pledge to walk into the God/zocalo with a particular group and, while there, to abide by their understanding.  Faith is an initiatory passage into culture, not a passageway to the really real.  Said another way faith is agreement with claims about the really real made by a particular group when they inhabit the God/zocalo.

As long as you remain within that group, their language will be useful to you as a shared agreement about what spreads outward from the zocalo.  In Mexico City it is Mexico and Mexicanness.  In the Presbyterian occupation of the zocalo it is the presbyterian form of church government, John Calvin, local presbyteries and congregations, the Book of Order, ordination exams, elders, presbytery meetings, General Assemblies.

 

 

The Universe At Work

Fall                                                                      New (Samhain) Moon

Lunch with Bill Schmidt.  Bill says “the universe works” and means in part by that that problems have solutions even if they’re not evident through the usual channels.  His working example is his own experience with a milking herd for which he was responsible.

The herd came down with pseudomonas.  As he said, bad news.  The Wisconsin state vet advised him to kill the herd and start over.  No, he thought to himself, someone out there knows the answer.  So he kept himself open to an answer as he worked the land in Door County.  It came through a soil tester who knew a guy who might know something.

Sure enough, this person had a solution that involved colostrum.  Mammals produce colostrum in late pregnancy.  It is a milk that contains antibodies to protect the infant animal against disease.  It saved his herd.

The larger lesson, Bill believes, is that we need to keep ourselves in a constant state of openness for answers, for new information, for ways of thinking that might seem strange, yet have real value.  He practices this in his daily life.

 

Yet Another Late Learning

Fall                                                                        Harvest Moon

Another late lesson.  Or, perhaps better, a lesson only incompletely grasped, now more fully understood.

Learning, difficult learning, excites me and keeps me motivated.  But.  The brain only has so much patience for stuffing new things in before it tires, eyes glaze over and a slight headache develops.  At least for me.

(Peasants harvesting crops, by Flemish artist Pieter Brueghel)

Over this growing season I’ve discovered that taking a work outside break, a work with my hands or my back break, releases the tension and I can come back to my work refreshed.  I have also found that I enjoy the work outside much more when I understand its value in the total rhythm of my day.  So there’s a virtuous circle here.  Work hard at the desk, then get up and accomplish something manual garden work or changing light bulbs or organizing the garage.

 

Nice Day For A Walk

Fall                                                                         Harvest Moon

A guy trudged along the same trail I was on, dressed in full camo but with the jacket open and t-shirt spread wide by a belly yearning to be free. “Nice day for a walk,” he said.  “Yeah.”  He was a bow-hunter with six yellow feathered arrows and a compound bow.  When I got back to the parking lot, I saw his truck with a large sticker, Life Begins At Full Draw.  A bow hunter with his bow-string fully extended.  He had another large sticker, “Born to Fish, Forced to Work.”

A bit further along a Hmong man in blaze orange vest with a rifle slung on right shoulder.  “Hi.”  “Hi.”  Only a moment before meeting the bow hunter I had decided to turn back.  I had no orange vest and wanted to be safe.

When I drove up here, only 3 maybe 4 miles from home, I’d discovered that this new state owned land was a conservation area, not a scientific and natural area as I had remembered.  The difference is that you can ride snowmobiles at Cedar Creek Conservation Area.  You can hunt.  You can also hike of course, but…

Armed with my smart phone I looked up Minnesota hunting seasons and found that it was bow season for deer and hunting for small animals and certain birds.  Didn’t seem I’d be confused for any of these since bow hunters have to be fairly close and have a good sight line, but out of, as the politicians say, “an abundance of caution,” I had begun my exit.

It was a spectacular day.  64 degrees.  Clear skies.  A light breeze.  Just right.  As often happens in northern Anoka county, it felt like up north with woods and meadows.  Imagining myself on a trail outside of Ely was easy.

Here are a few things I saw:

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IMAG0978IMAG0984IMAG0989

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A Coarse, Tactile Spirituality

Lughnasa                                                                    Harvest Moon

While out preparing beds for bulb planting later this fall, I thought over the post I’d made below.  Spirituality is not the best word for describing what I was talking about, I realized. At least it’s not in metaphysical terms.  I’m talking about a here and now, sensory delivered experience.

In a broader sense, and as I think it is often used, spirituality refers to a mode, event, ritual that makes present, even if momentarily, our connectedness.  In traditional religious circles that connectedness links up to what Kant would have called the noumenal realm, the realm beyond our senses.  Nietzsche put a stop sign to philosophical consideration of the noumenal, a problem for Western philosophy since the Platonic ideal forms, when he said God is dead.  That is, the noumenal realm is not and never was accessible.  If it ever was at all.

Using spirituality in this latter sense–the revelation of connectedness however it comes–then my use of it was just fine.

Just now I looked out my study window and to the north the sky was black and to the east a sickly green cast hoovered near the horizon.  When my eyes read that green, my stomach sank, just a bit, the fear engendered by growing up in tornado alley struggling to assert itself, demand my attention.  Survival at stake!   Red alert.  This was a moment of awe, a reminder of the power nature can bring to bear.  It was a spiritual moment in its sense of immediate connectedness between my deepest inner self and the world within range of my vision.

These are small epiphanies, yes, but they are available. This coarse, material spirituality, tactile in its immediacy reminds me, in definitive manner, of who I am and of what I am a part.  Do I need more?

A Coarse Spirituality

Lughnasa                                                                   Harvest Moon

Yesterday in the midst of wet raspberry canes, plucking fruit from thorny yet fragile IMAG0955cropped1000branches, the spirituality of the moment grasped me.  The canes stuck to my sweatshirt sleeve; the water soaked into my jeans.  This was the real in all its obstinate presence.

Last February Kate and I did some winter pruning and I cut last year’s canes down to the ground.  We were late getting this done, but the timing was alright.  Now, eight months later, those same plants had burst up, some over my head and drooping with golden and red-purple berries.

The garden, the orchard, the bees each reward us: tomatoes, carrots, onions, apples, cherries, pears, honey.  A virtuous circle, we care for the soil and the plants and the trees and the hives, they in turn offer something we can eat.  Eat.  Think of that.  This is the true and definitive instance of transubstantiation.   Eat this cherry and remember me.  Eat this IMAG0956cropped1000carrot; it becomes me.  It becomes me to eat this carrot.  The soil and the plants here give of themselves that I may not perish.

Thus, to be among them, feeling them pluck at me, rain water dripping off them onto me is a coarse prayer, a baptism by holy water made clean and pure in the clouds then delivered unto us by the morning rain.

Amen.

The Springtime of the Soul

Lughnasa                                                               Harvest Moon

This northern soul breathes easier when the mornings are cooler, even cold.  The bright blue Canadian skies or the dark gray roof of low cumulus clouds make me happy, too.  As we tilt toward September 29th, Michaelmas, the springtime of the soul holiday in my sacred calendar, my inner life revs up, or perhaps better, cycles down.  The humus built up over the growing season sees the first shoots of ideas sowed either long ago or just yesterday.

Right now I’m in the grip of Loki, trying to wrestle a believable and exciting villain from his myth and legend.  He and his kids get their own book, this next one, Loki’s Children, so Dad is important.  He’ll come clearer to me as the fall progresses.  (Death of Balder)

 

Ready to Let Go

Lughnasa                                                              Harvest Moon

Giving a presentation this morning at Groveland UU.  The Third Phase.  I’ll post it later on today.  I find myself surprisingly uninterested.  I forgot several times last night that I was doing it.  Got today planned in my head, then, went, “Oh.  Right!”  Resistance.  This may be the last of it.  There’s no longer the spark of delight I used to get from writing out my thoughts, then presenting them to others out loud.

They say fear of death and public speaking run close together in terms of intensity among most of the population.  Public speaking has never been a fear for me.  I’ve been doing it since I was young, various venues like school politics, church, theatre, classrooms, debate, interpretive reading.  Over the years I’ve come to believe that I have a talent for it, modest, but there.  I’m no Cicero or Richard Burton, but I can get my point across and most of the time make you feel glad you had the chance to listen.

It may not be the public speaking that has soured for me.  I really gave up the ministry years ago with a slight regression in the late 90’s, but I was not sorry when I left the Presbytery in 1992.  The connection with Groveland kept that spark glowing, but the ember has begun to die out, or has died out.  It’s a profession that never did fit me, that I entered through a series of bad choices, like the thug life.  I worked hard to make a place for myself in the church, but the tension and stress made me unhappy.

Now, finally, 20+ years after the fact, I’m ready to let it go all the way.

Is It the End, My Friend?

Lughnasa                                                                         Harvest Moon

The singularity is near.  Can we prevent the takeover of the machines?  Will technology devour us, turning the master-slave relationship upside down in Nietzschean irony?  Life with intelligent machines has become a reality already.  Are we too late, doomed to follow our lemming-like path of one more gadget to disaster?

Doubt it.  First.  Depictions of the apocalypse have been failing since the notion first muscled its way onto the human imaginal stage.  We’re very good at predicting the end and equally talented at forgetting that it never happened.  In the Hebrew scriptures there was only one way to tell a good prophesy from a bad one.  Did it foretell events?  If so, good prophecy.  If not, bad prophecy.  And prophecies of  the end time have, so far at least, been wanting.  As proof, I offer the fact that I’m writing about
them.

Second.  Events do not occur in a vacuum.  That is, even if a singularity event or its near cousin came to pass, it would have been preceded by other advances outside of its ambit and the fact of its occurrence itself would shift matters in ways unpredictable.  These interacting variables would almost certainly create a less dire circumstance than techno-gloomy gusses anticipate.

Third. Remember Malthus?  He had a simple idea about food production and the carrying capacity of the earth.  He bet we would return to subsistence level agriculture once the population outstripped the food supply.  Hasn’t happened.  Why?  Agriculture advances, logistical advances, economic advances.  Simple ideas tend to leave out the complicated world in which we actually live.

Finally, will the end come?  Yep.  It will.  There are astrophysical forces at play in the solar system that will finish off life on earth and after that earth itself will be absorbed as our chief ally, Sol, expands into a red giant.  Will humanity have figured out how to live among the stars by then?  My guess?  Yes.

My sense is that we muddle along more often than anything else.  And the singularity will be a curiosity of our era.  Remember 2012?