Searcing for God # 100

 For frequent visitors to this space, (Thank you for your time, attention, reflection and patience!), you will have noticed two themes emerging in this ‘pilgrimmage’…one toward ‘liberation’ and the other toward ‘silence’.

Both have roots in the Christian tradition, and we might like to explore whether the convergence of these two themes has roots in any of the spiritual ‘angels’ among those in the Christian archives.

Finding both liberation and silence to be integral and impactful not only as applications of one’s faith journey, but also a beacons of both light and darkness, in the balanced and rejuvenating necessary for a pilgrimage in search of God, I stumbled upon a website, after ‘googling’ ‘relationship of mysticism and liberation theology’….Surprise!: In Search of a New Eden.

Here are a few thoughts from one Jeremy McNabb, found on their website:

Celtic influences often find strange theological pairings, and what I have to bring to the table today is no exception. Gustavo Gutierrez was neither Irish nor a mystic, but I think his writings carry a lesson for those of us who are either. He is considered one of the founders of liberation theology, and for those who aren’t students of church history, liberation theology has three main parts:

1.    It challenges the radical and systematic dehumanization of the marginalized by introducing spiritual hope.

2.    It builds on that foundation of hope by engaging the marginalized in critical self-reflection about both their situation and their oppression.

3.    It studies both scripture and church history to discover parallel movements of liberation.

I don’t know how it plays out in the rest of the world, but mysticism and liberation theology do not frequently cross paths in the American Church. It would be an anachronism to suggest that (Saint) Patrick was motivated by liberation theology, because what is called liberation theology today did not yet exist in fifth-century Ireland and Britain. It would not be incorrect, however, to say that what motivated Patrick to return to the peasants of Ireland would be called liberation theology if it played out in our modern world.

Though Patrick would fall into what is commonly called “white” today, he was not a member of his world’s ethnic or political majority. The Irish had little privilege except where they aligned themselves with Rome and Patrick himself had been kidnapped and enslaved in his youth. Despite this, he returned to the peasants (pagani) of Ireland after mystically hearing their collective voice calling out to him.

The monk Pelagius is known as a heretic, condemned as one, even. He found himself on the religious fringe, excluded from a circle that included (and whose gates were guarded by) giants like Jerome and Augustine of Hippo. Pelagius accepted that women could learn as well as men and it has been suggested that the pagan belief that humans could directly engage in relationships with deities influenced his Christian understanding of free will.

Germanus of Auxerre also seemed to fear Pelagianism for its tendency to stimulate men and women to resist Roman commands. In fact, it was this fear that prompted Germanus to co-opt Patrick’s call to the pagans of Ireland with the intention of dismantling Pelagius’ influence there.

In recent years, mostly thanks to a wide-spread internet hoax, the plight of the Irish has been unjustly weaponized against communities of color in order to dismiss slavery and xenophobia, and to suggest what good folk ought to do when faced with oppression and marginalization.

I call attention to Patrick and Pelagius, not to ignore black and brown heroes of the faith or to center this religious dialog on men who would have looked like the vast majority of folks at the top of corporations or in Washington, D.C. today, but to point out that it should not be impossible for many of us—who look like them–to grasp the struggle faced by those Gutierrez intended to liberate.

Patrick, Pelagius, and Gutierrez are our spiritual ancestors and speak to us across a communion table that is greater and grander than we can imagine. Their journeys can and should inform ours. Christ said in Matthew 25 (paraphrasing), “Whatever you do or do not do for the least of these, you do or do not do for me.” When we feed the poor, we feed Christ. When we cloth the naked, we cloth Christ. When we visit someone in prison, it is Christ that we visit. And when we ignore those souls, we ignore Christ, too.

As mystics, many of us know what it is like to have other Christians treat us with suspicion for being too “Pelagian” or too “new age.” Many of us know what it is like to have our mystical experiences treated with disbelief, clinical dismissal, or outright ridicule. It should come as no surprise to us that someone of a different skin color or from a different culture could be treated with similar disbelief, dismissal, or ridicule.

When the time comes for white Christians to stand in solidarity on behalf of black or brown Christians, those of us who consider ourselves mystics or heretics should be at the front of the line, not because we’re more important, not because we’re wiser, but because we understand in some small way what it means to be made to feel unimportant.

We should realize that what Christians of color face is a much larger, much more systematic and terrifying version of the same prejudices we have faced, and we should count it a privilege to offer ourselves as a soul-friend to them.

(This article was written by Jeremy McNabb. Jeremy is a religious history geek with a B.A. in Biblical and Theological Studies, a graduate student of Theological Anthropology, a hopeful novelist, a Pelagian, and an aspiring heresiarch.)*

*Heresiarch: an arch-heretic, founder or proponent of a hierarchical movement or sect. (FYI, this scribe has no intentions, ambitions, flirtations, fantasies or expectations of becoming an heresiarch. This space is dedicated to whatever it is that I deem necessary to learn, to embrace, to wrestle with and to prayer to and for.)

While these notes from Mr. McNAbb, (with their United States’ perspective) offer a glimpse into his perception of the connections between mysticism and liberation theology, a different name has also been cited as another bridge between the two, also long before the word or concept or practice of liberation theology had been documented and studied.

The name Theresa of Avila will be familiar to some, although her story and influence may be less familiar. She is reputed to have joined these two themes throughout her own life, and, for this scribe, offers a role model of considerable influence, consequence and application for contemporary Christian spiritual pilgrimages. why might she be relevant and significant in this preliminary ‘dig’ into the potential relationship or connection between mysticism and liberation theology.

From the website: Theresa of Avila- Saint mystic and Doctor of the Church

What to Remember

It is obvious from the directness and freshness of her writings that Teresa was a real flesh and blood individual who, while being a great contemplative was also a person who was very active in the world. Persistently poor health did not stop her in her attempts to bring a more authentic spirituality to the religious communities that she set up. Her political acumen saved her from the power of the Inquisition to have her silenced and even put to death. We also see in the progression of the writings, someone who, as she got older, became more compassionate towards her own sisters and more forgiving of their failings. Her life can be seen as the story of a spirited young woman who, at home in the world, by degrees allows her spirit to be infused and completely surrendered to the will of God. Like Julian of Norwich, her God is a god of great tenderness and forgiveness who is only waiting for us to approach him in prayer when we can no longer conceive of him through thoughts and words. Like so many mystics her writings are less about spiritual technique and much more about the quality of relationship. As she says herself;

‘And so my friends, I will end by suggesting that we avoid building towers without foundations. The Beloved looks less at the grandeur of our deeds than at the love with which we perform them.’

Contemporary theological thinkers continue to wrestle with the deep connections between the mystical and the political. One such thinker is Frederic Lenoir#, and from his website, fredericlenoir.com we read:

Le Monde des religions, November-December 2009 —

Religions inspire fear. Today, the religious dimension is present, to varying degrees, in most armed conflicts. Even setting aside war, controversies surrounding religious issues are among the most violent in Western countries. Certainly, religion divides more than it unites people. Why? From its very beginnings, religion has possessed a dual dimension of connection. Vertically, it creates a bond between people and a higher principle, whatever name we give it: spirit, god, the
Absolute. This is its mystical dimension. Horizontally, it brings together human beings who feel united by this shared belief in this invisible transcendence. This is its political dimension. This is well expressed by
the Latin etymology of the word "religion": religere, "to bind." A human group is united by shared beliefs, and these beliefs are all the stronger, as Régis Debray so aptly explained, because they refer to an absence, to an invisible force. Religion thus takes on a prominent identity-forming dimension: each individual feels a sense of belonging to a group through this religious dimension, which also constitutes a significant part of their personal identity. All is well when everyone shares the same beliefs. Violence begins when some individuals deviate from the common norm: this is the perpetual persecution of "heretics" and "infidels," who threaten the group's social cohesion. Violence is also exercised, of course, outside the community, against other cities, groups, or nations that hold different beliefs. And even when political power is separate from religious power, religion is often instrumentalized by politicians because of its mobilizing role in shaping identity. We remember Saddam Hussein, an unbeliever and leader of a secular state, calling for jihad to fight against the "Jewish and Christian crusaders" during the two Gulf Wars. The survey we conducted in Israeli settlements provides another example. In a rapidly globalizing world, fueling fear and rejection, religion is experiencing a resurgence of identity politics everywhere. People fear the other, retreat into themselves and their cultural roots, and breed intolerance. Yet, there is a completely different path for believers: remaining faithful to their roots while also being open to dialogue with others in their difference. Refusing to allow religion to be used by politicians for belligerent purposes. Returning to the core tenets of each religion, which promote values ​​of respect for others, peace, and welcoming the stranger. Experiencing religion in its spiritual dimension rather than its identity-based one. By drawing on this shared heritage of spiritual and humanistic values, rather than on the diversity of cultures and dogmas that divide them, religions can play a pacifying role on a global scale. We are still far from this, but many individuals and groups are working towards this goal: it is also worth remembering. If, to borrow Péguy's phrase, "everything begins in mysticism and ends in politics," then it is not impossible for believers to work toward building a peaceful global political space, based on the shared mystical foundation of religions: the primacy of love, mercy, and forgiveness. That is to say, to strive for the advent of a fraternal world. Religions, therefore, do not seem to me to constitute an insurmountable obstacle to such a project, which aligns with that of humanists, whether they are believers, atheists, or agnostics.

#Frederic Lenoir is a French sociologist, philosopher and writer, born June 3, 1962). He is Director of the School for Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences (EHESS). He divides his time between his main residence in Corsica, Paris and the rest of the world where he gives numerous seminars and lectures.

To be continued…..