All posts by Kevin O'Brien

Maturity in Christ

From an email to a friend …

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This week, in my regular Scripture readings, I read Ephesians chapter 4, which is pretty much the heart of Paul’s theology of regeneration in Christ.  It is the great and profound mystery that we don’t hear a whisper of from the pulpit – at least I haven’t in any single Mass I’ve been to in the last 17 years.  But it is at the center of what the Faith is.  

We are remade in Christ.  As Christians, who we are is different from what we were.  We experience a change in our being: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

I have never heard that mentioned at any Church I’ve been to, beyond the readings.  It may be read by the lector, but it’s never preached by the priest or deacon.  And it is as unbelievable as the Resurrection.  “If Christ be not raised, then is our faith in vain, and we are the most miserable of men, and we are still in our sins.”  If the Resurrection is false, then we are all fools and we should burn down the churches and stay in bed on Sundays.

And – crazy as the Resurrection sounds – even crazier is the belief that our natures are being remade.  “You have been buried with Him in baptism and raised with Him in faith.”  

And even more difficult for modern Christians: we are all supposed to be growing into Christ.

So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.


Growing up as Christians, becoming “mature”, “attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ”, no longer “infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.”

We are not only to mature in Christ as individuals, but as a Body, conforming ourselves to Him who is our head, Jesus.  When we mature in Christ, the Church matures in Christ, and we grow into the fullness of Him as a Body.

The “fullness of Christ” to which we are to strive is (in this passage from Ephesians 4) derived from the Greek work πλήρωμα (pleroma), meaning fullness and completion and final perfection.  In Colossians, Paul uses this word to extol the divinity of Jesus: “For in Him dwells all the fullness (πλήρωμα) of God in His body”.  

Pleroma is a mature completeness, and in Christ it is the fullness and completeness of a man who is God.  

But this is lacking in our whole vision of our faith.

Today a friend told me about an atheist she knows who now wants to pray and be Christian. My friend kept giggling and talking about the “miracle” of this atheist’s conversion, but there was no hint of the reality of it.  It’s as if the game is won.  The story is over.  He’s Christian, no longer atheist.  End of story.  Ta da!  

But what of the reality of who this man is?  What of the struggles and disappointments he’s bound to face?  What of the next step, maturity in Christ?  Who can lead him from infancy in the gospel to maturity, “attaining to the fullness (πλήρωμα)”, so that he is not “swept by every wind of doctrine blown by the cunning and craftiness of others”?  Somehow my friend sees this as a game, as a switch you flip, as a yes that drowns out the no, as a complete victory, rather than a wobbly and tentative first step toward the light that is still far away.

St. Flannery’s Epistles to Miss A.

I am reading Flannery’s O’Connor’s letters.  I was bored until her correspondence from 1955.  Before then, she was writing to friends about money, book deals, things she was reading.  But in 1955, she took up a correspondence with a woman from Atlanta, a Pagan pantheist / agnostic who is referred to as “Miss A.”  Suddenly Flannery confronts the Big Questions and the result is awesome.  Here are some selections from Flannery O’Connor’s correspondence with “Miss A.”  …

… our salvation is worked out on earth according as we love one another, see Christ in one another, etc., by works.  This is one reason I am chary of using the word, love, loosely.  I prefer to use it in its practical forms, such as prayer, almsgiving, visiting the sick and burying the dead and so forth.

… the only thing that makes the Church endurable is that it is somehow the body of Christ and that on this we are fed.  It seems to be a fact that you have to suffer as much from the Church as for it …

One of the awful things about writing when you are a Christian is that for you the ultimate reality is the Incarnation, the present reality is the Incarnation, the whole reality is the Incarnation, and nobody believes in the Incarnation; that is, nobody in your audience.  My audience are the people who think God is dead.  At least these are the people I am conscious of writing for.

As for Jesus’ being a realist: if He was not God, He was no realist, only a liar, and the crucifixtion an act of justice.

Dogma can in no way limit a limitless God.  The person outside the Church attaches a different meaning to it than the person in.  For me a dogma is only a gateway to contemplation and is an instrument of freedom and not of restriction.

That last one is great.  Eric Voegelin was all about contemplation of God, and he thought dogma got in the way of that.  But Flannery says dogma “preserves the mystery”.  And yet how many Christians use dogma as something that incites to further prayer or wonder?  Many use dogma as the end of the question, not the beginning of it.

More from St. Flannery …

Whether you are a Christian or not, we both worship the God Who Is.  St. Thomas on his death bed said of the Summa, “it’s all straw,” – this was in the vision of that God.

And here we have her using a metaphor that I have also used.  Of conversion or membership in the Church, she said …

I suppose it is like marriage, that when you get into it, you find it is the beginning, not the end, of the struggle to make love work.

Now that is brilliant – from a woman who was never married.  Marriage is the beginning, not the end, of the struggle to make love work.  That’s very true indeed.

Flannery is reluctant to write about purity, calling it the most mysterious of virtues.

… it occurs to me that it would never have entered the human consciousness to conceive of purity if we were not to look forward to a resurrection of the body, which will be flesh and spirit united in peace, in the way they were in Christ.  The resurrection of Christ seems the high point in the law of nature.

Elsewhere she says of purity …

… it is an acceptance of what God wills for us, an acceptance of our individual circumstances.

And then she throws off lines like this.  She says she does not like to write about “the poor” …

I won’t say the poor, because I don’t like to distinguish them.  Everybody, as far as I am concerned, is The Poor.

I love that!  And she also says some very evocative things like this …

… I have come to think of sleep as metaphorically connected with the mother of God.  Hopkins said she was the air we breathe, but I have come to realize her most in the gift of going to sleep.  Life without her would be equivalent to me to life without sleep and as she contained Christ for a time, she seems to contain our life in sleep for a time so that we are able to wake up in peace.

And this is perhaps one of the greatest lines in all of literature, and it’s so typically Flannery …

Well, God rescues us from ourselves if we want Him to.

Yes indeed.  Well, God rescues us from ourselves if we want Him to.  That’s perfect theology and perfect poetry and perfectly vernacular.  That should have gone on her tombstone.

And let me quote at length from her letter to Miss A. of Dec. 16, 1955.  She speaks of how she strives in her stories for the moral sense to coincide with the dramatic sense, and then she says this …

… the devil’s moral sense coincides at all points with his dramatic sense.

The devil understands, in other words, the deep connection between our acts (good and evil) and the consequences of our acts.  We would rather pretend as if that connection did not exist.  The devil is braver than that, and peers right into that connection, delighting to send souls to hell.

And here she is speculating on the General Resurrection.

As I understand it, the Church teaches that our resurrected bodies will be intact as to personality, that is, intact with all the contradictions beautiful to you, except the contradiction of sin; sin is the contradiction, the interference, of a greater good by a lesser good.  I look for all variety in that unity but not for a choice: for when all you see will be God, all you will want will be God.

This is why, I would add, we are to be Salt of the Earth.  We are to become more distinct and individually flavorful, not less.

And she includes this in her Dec. 16 letter, one of her most famous quotes and the one thing that people know from her letters …

I was once, five or six years ago, taken by some friends to have dinner with Mary McCarthy and her husband, Mr. Broadwater.  (She just wrote that book, A Charmed Life, reviewed in Time.)  She departed the Church at the age of 15 and is a Big Intellectual. We went at eight and at one, I hadn’t opened my mouth once, there being nothing for me in such company to say. The people who took me were Robert Lowell and his now wife, Elizabeth Hardwick. Having me there was like having a dog present who had been trained to say a few words but overcome with inadequacy had forgotten them. Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the Host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the “most portable” person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one. I then said, in a very shaky voice, “Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.” That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest is expendable.

The Body and Blood of Christ is Love Incarnate.  As is marriage, which “is the beginning, not the end, of the struggle to make love work.”

Compare Tolkien …

“Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament … There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth … which every man’s heart desires”

What is the Soul?

What is the soul?  It is not the ghost in the machine of our bodies.
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This is the soul.  Read on.  It’s dense, but I paraphrase after.  From Eric Voegelin: Philosopher of History by Eugene Webb ,,, 

If we consider that human existence is constituted as a tension of longing or striving toward conscious participation in reality and that this striving proceeds through reflective mediation in consciousness, we might diagram the total pattern in the following way: The line with the arrowhead in this picture represents the tension of existence both as experienced on the level of immediacy and as articulated in consciousness through the medium of symbolization. “R” stands for reality, in which the inquirer is immediately involved through his participation in existence and which he also comes to know reflectively. As such it is intended to embrace all that is, including the entire process represented in the diagram. The figure in the middle marked with “S” is in the shape of a lens. “S” stands for symbol; this may take the specific form of visual symbols, myths, ideas, philosophical propositions, and so on. It could even take the form of dance or liturgy. Whatever its form, it functions to represent some aspect of the reality attended to through it and to direct inquiry toward that. This is why it is represented in the diagram as a lens; it is not, when it is functioning properly, an object of attention in its own right, but serves as a focusing device to direct attention beyond itself toward the object of interest. It is only through that lens or medium that human existence can attain consciousness and reflective knowledge of the real, even when what is inquired into is human existence.

 
 

It is the diagram as a whole that depicts psyche. The symbol psyche refers to the entire process of participation in reality, its symbolization, and the tension that moves and guides the process.

To translate:
We experience reality by a longing for it, a pull toward it, a desire to know it.  We desire Wisdom, which is God, fullness of reality, the satisfaction of our “restless hearts”.  This is Eros, the search, the quest, the desire: the straight line in the diagram is the “tension of existence”, the tension which all ideologues try to destroy by coming up with Closed Systems (Unrealities).  Many Devout Catholics function as mere ideologues, “quenching the Spirit” (1 Thes. 5:19), suppressing the Question, the “tension of existence” by building a substitute reality.  In the same way that porn can be a substitute for a man’s sexual desire, so Unreality is a substitute for our spiritual desire.  Sexual longing is scary because it brings us into relationship, commitment, families, babies, self-sacrifice – all the things that take us outside of ourselves.  Porn and autoeroticism is safe because it gives a substitute payoff without any of the risks, satisfying desire on a basic (or immanent) level while thwarting it on a more remote (or transcendent) level.

The other aspect of this diagram is the “lens” of symbolism or representation.  Beyond the most basic level of the senses, consciousness only seems to function via symbolism (including language, rational thinking, story, art and myth).  If the symbols become mere doxasuperficial appearances or representations that no longer represent, signs that point to nothing beyond themselves, to no greater aspect of reality, if the map becomes more important than the road or the journey’s destination, then we have a kind of anti-Mary (not unlike antichrist).  As Mary is the lens whose soul “magnifies the Lord”, she represents how living and loving symbols and beings can show us God.  The antimary would be any symbol or being that becomes opaque, allocating God’s glory to itself and blocking the light beyond.

And … according to Eric Voegelin and the ancient Greek philosophers … this IS the soul, the psyche, this pull toward reality through the lens of life and reflection.
The soul is not the ghost within the body.
The soul is this deeply moving and illuminating … and dangerous and risky … experience.

Homeschool Connections Courses

Dear Ink Desk Readers,

I thought you might like my videos for my Homeschool Connections courses.  Here’s the whole playlist – https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6nwcq2gOwaDvobs-AYEr0Csmh7BjjuI7.  You can watch all of them by clicking “play all” but the first one is probably the best.  They’re all pretty short.

And be sure to sign your kids or grandkids up for Homeschool Connections!

What It’s All About

There’s a Life Magazine special issue out about Mary.

At the end of the main article, the writer laments, “If only we had a simply human Mary, that would be enough.”

My reaction: We do have a simply human Mary.  No orthodox Christian has ever believed or taught that Mary is anything other than human.  So that should be enough.

My wife’s reaction: For people, it’s never enough.

And that’s really it.  That’s what it’s all about.  We’re a mess.  Insatiable, unhappy, lost – in need of a Savior (though that’s not a politically correct thing to say).

You may choose to believe the Gospels or to think of them as mere myths, but what they present in perhaps the most telling and compelling way in all of literature is human nature in its truest form.  

The Father’s call throughout the Old Testament, through the voice of his prophets, is “Repent!  Stop doing evil, do good and turn to me.  Otherwise you will face disaster.”  That’s the message of the Son in the New Testament as well, but we don’t want to hear it.

We’d rather have the Buddy Jesus, the Jesus-as-Inner-Self, the Vague Jesus, the Jesus of our Own Desires, the Jesus we can make jump and entertain us.

We don’t want a Jesus whose first words are (as in the Gospel according to Mark): “Repent and believe!”

And the Gospels simply tell us what we do when we are given “enough”, when we are asked to repent and believe.  What do we do when we are given all that we need?  A loving God, a good man, a man who walks the earth healing and forgiving and asking us to do the same?  What do we do?

We torture Him, mock Him and kill Him. 

No work of literature before or since has ever shown so clearly the Resistance in our Hearts.

Acting and Appearances

SCTV’s Bobby Bitman used to say, “As a comic, in all seriousness”.  Perhaps I should say, “As an actor, in all sincerity …” because, of course, acting is the opposite of sincerity in the same way that comedy is the opposite of seriousness.

But that’s not really true.  Good acting is authentic or sincere at a very basic level.  Within the framework of the Secondary Reality or Sub-creation of the drama, good acting must be true.  An actor is pretending, and he does not “become” the character in any real sense, except within the confines of the story.  And, as any actor will tell you, the nuances of a character don’t fall into place until you “get it”, until you get in character, until you act the part from the inside-out.  Until then, it’s very difficult in rehearsal to approach a character from the outside-in.  Sometimes the outside trappings of a role – accents or posture or even costumes and make-up – will help an actor adopt that role, but what they help with is the “internalization” of the role.  Real acting happens when you identify with the character.  Once that happens, all of the character’s quirks and nuances make sense.  An odd line or motivation or moment that frustrated you in rehearsal may fit into place and make complete sense once you “get in character” and find the key, the truth from which the character operates, the inner reality that makes all of the character’s actions a coherent whole.

Elsewhere I’ve written how this is an analogy for living the Christian Faith.  But it’s really an analogy for more than just that.

Behind what we do is who we are.  Behind our lines is our character.  Behind the character is the actor who acts the part.  But in many ways we lose sight of this.

Most people live on the level of appearances.  The essence that the appearances signify, the hidden truth that motivates what we do, the reality behind the bluff, the truth behind the show – we are uncomfortable with this.  We prefer the doxa, the conventional, the external, the outward to the inward.  Even in our faith.  Perhaps especially in our faith.

We are almost never reminded that Christ brings ontological change.  The way from baptism to resurrection is a way of the cross, a death and rebirth.  But we don’t want that.  We’d rather fake it with bad hymns and all the trappings that help us keep our faith safely on the surface.  We may not crucify Jesus, but we don’t go with Him when he says, “Come, follow me” because we are afraid of what we may find.  We are afraid of the cross and the reality it brings.  We’d prefer to be bad actors, phoning in our parts and cashing the check.  And so the last thing we do is imitate Christ at the basic level of our every day existence.  Anything but that.  Anything but being honest when it’s not advantageous to be, being chaste even when every sex act on earth is a mouse click away, being conscientious when it’s easier to slack off.

And yet acting this role from the inside-out is the great drama of our lives.

Porn, Facebook and Human Nature

Yesterday Rod Dreher posted an article on pornography on his site.  He begins it with this …

Whenever I go to a Christian college to speak, I talk to professors, staffers, and campus ministers about what they’re seeing among the students. Two things always come up: 1) far too many of their students know next to nothing about the Christian faith, and 2) pornography is a massive problem.

At one Christian college I visited over the past few months, a professor said, “For the first time, I’m starting to see it becoming a problem for my female students, not just the male ones.” A campus minister who works with young undergraduates headed for professional ministry told me that every single one of the men he mentors has a porn addiction.

Every. Single. One.

He goes on to illustrate how porn has become a problem among elementary school students (including girls in the fourth grade), whose parents have been stupid enough to give them smart phones.

As distressing as this is, the problem is not just masturbation in front of a computer screen.  The problem is that pornography and lust itself (not just sexual desire, but lust) objectifies other people.  Men seem to be wired in such a way that we are more likely to see sex as an experience disconnected from love, marriage or babies – or from humanity, in a sense – than women are.  This is why the gay male culture is so horrific when it comes to promiscuity and brutality.

But we are dealing with a technology that was unimaginable a generation ago.  When I was a kid, pornography was hard to come by.  Now it’s ubiquitous.  All varieties of sexual activities are right there in your pocket and can be accessed within mere seconds, even for Christian men who try to avoid the temptation (and don’t fool yourself, the addiction is universal, including among devout Christian guys, or as Rod says, “Every.  Single.  One.”)  It’s as if we’re all walking around with a handy supply of heroin that we can rely on for an intense high when we’re down or lonely, mad or tired, horny or simply bored.

And, again, it’s not the sin of the flesh that is so harmful.  As serious sins go, sins of the flesh are the least harmful, as Christian culture has always recognized.  What’s harmful is the spiritual side of this sin.

And the spiritual side of it comes down to this: ABUSE.  We can’t just follow our lusts and be happy.  The more we indulge them, the more we think of other people as mere tools and the more we feel contempt for them.  I’ve experienced this attitude even in Devout Catholic young women, who have probably never viewed pornography, but who are nevertheless steeped in the throwaway culture, a culture that sees not only sex but intimacy and friendship and even basic social interaction as self-serving and cut off from a real encounter with the Other.

This is one of the things that makes Facebook so horrible.  There’s a kind of endless posturing, making a show of your beliefs and ridiculing others in the process.  My wife uses Facebook for sharing pictures and keeping up with her friends, but my Facebook friends engage in debates – except they’re not debates: they’re tirades or polemics or shouting matches, the object of which is to prove you are righteous and that you are justified in viewing the Other with contempt.  Without that final dismissal of the value of the Other, there’s no payoff, no “money shot”.  Polemic Facebook posts are posturing at best, “rage porn” at worst.

This is why technology is not neutral.  And we are not neutral, either.  We tend toward sin, and must be raised to goodness through grace and hard work.  Given good environments, we can be edified and educated and cultivated toward virtue and happiness.  Given bad environments, we will become abusive – to ourselves and to one another.  We all have this potential.  We can go either way.

Dreher and the people he quotes are right.  Pornography and the entire attitude that accompanies it (including the Rage Porn of Facebook) is the most serious problem in our society today.  And yet I have never heard a homiliy on it.  Ever.  The greatest spiritual threat in the world is simply ignored at the parish level.

The opposite of love is use.  And mere use always become abuse.  And we live in a culture of abuse.

The Rohr of the Crowd

Recently a friend of mine asked me what I thought of Fr. Richard Rohr, and I dismissed him with some sort of comment such as, “Oh, Rohr’s books are tea table twaddle.”

And, according to Dan Burke, there are, apparently, concerns about Rohr’s orthodoxy.

But, while researching something else on the internet, I came upon a link to Fr. Rohr’s book Immortal Diamond: The Search for our True Self.  And I read, with a good deal of interest, an interview with Fr. Rohr (pasted below, with my comments in boldface), as well as perhaps the BEST AMAZON BOOK REVIEW EVER …

I wonder why it was so hard to folloe.
What folloes below is the interview with Rohr.  Note that it’s C. G. Jung warmed over, but it’s the best of Jung, which is saying something.  Again, my comments follow (I mean, folloe) each of Rohr’s in bracketed boldface.

Q&A with Robert Rohr, author of Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self

Richard Rohr
Q. What do you mean by False Self and True Self? 
A. When I use the term False Self, I mean that it is the self we manufacture and adopt to find our identity in the world—our jobs, our occupations, our religion, our culture, our sources of status. False doesn’t mean that it’s bad; it simply means that it’s external, passing, that it changes. Everyone has a False Self—you need it to function in the world. True Self is who you are objectively in God. Most religious and spiritual traditions would call it the soul, although it is also mysteriously more than that. You do not create True Self by your own personality or choices or, or experiences. It’s nothing that you manufacture or do. It’s your innermost, essential being.
[Rohr is describing what Jung called the persona.  Other modern writers use the term “false self” instead of persona, so that they can set up a distinction between “false self” and “true self”, instead of Jung’s dichotomy of persona and Self.  The problem with Jung is that the Self is “autonomous”, or, in effect, deified.  The Self is God, or at lest the Inner God, speaking with a voice that must be obeyed so that the soul may achieve “individuation”, which, for Jung and his followers, simply means “self-indulgence”.  But Rohr seems to be on to something that Jung hit upon but did not take seriously enough.  
I would say Rohr is presenting the “false self” (the persona) as doxa, and the journey to the self-known-by-God (the “true self”) as a journey toward a reality that is not of our own making.  The potential for abuse, of course, is evident.  One may call “my wife and kids” the obligation of the “false self” and “sleeping with my mistress” the way to the “true self”.  
But, with the guidelines of the Church and the voice of conscience, perhaps this pitfall can be avoided … though Rohr does not stress this.]
Q. How do the concepts of True Self and False Self relate to the questions you explored in Falling Upward
A. In my book Falling Upward, I try to talk about the journey, the transitioning from the first half of life, the necessary suffering in the middle of life, and the liberation of the second half of life. In talking about True Self/False Self in Immortal Diamond, I’m trying to actually explain what it is we’re finding in the second half of life–our True Self. If you don’t find or recover your True Self, you remain in the first half of life forever, as many people do. They think they are their occupation, their family, their culture, their religion; without the falling apart of what Thomas Merton called our “private salvation project,” without that falling there is no upward. In Immortal Diamond I’m calling the upward the True Self and I’m trying to explain what the True Self is.
[Again, this is from Jung, who wrote about the stages of life and about the middle of life as being a crisis period that offered great opportunity for attaining spiritual growth.  Though the phrase “attaining spiritual growth” in our society usually means, “I’m finally doing what I always wanted to do, but was too decent to do before now.”  However, if we take Rohr’s insights in the proper light, what he seems to be saying is we need a crisis, a cross, a passion, to topple our house of cards, to undo our Unreality.  Perhaps both Jung and Rohr could avoid the pitfall of mere self-indulgence if, indeed, the “true self” is that part of us that is most visible to God’s penetrating glance and most needful of God, what I have elsewhere called the Vulnerable Thing.  That part of us is not our salvation, for it can be as selfish as any other part of our character: but it is the part of us that approaches Our Lord as a child, with simplicity, innocence and earnestness, all cynical worldliness stripped away.  If it takes a mid life crisis to get to that, then Rohr is on to something.]
Q. Why is finding True Self so important to the spiritual journey? 
A. In many ways this quest for the True Self is the foundational issue. Your True Self is the only part of you that really has access to the big questions, things like love, suffering, death, God. Your False Self just entertains itself. But once you make contact with your True Self, there’s a natural correspondence between who you are and who God is. Let me put it this way. When you discover your True Self, it’s very easy to recognize the presence of God. When you’re living out of your False Self, you tend to be more attracted to externals–external beliefs, external rituals–but you are never really touched at any deep level because it’s not really YOU that’s making contact. It’s your temperament, your personality, your culture, all of which are okay, but your True Self is that part of you that already knows God, already loves God at some unconscious level. When you can connect with your True Self, the whole spiritual life opens up.
[This is really good stuff.  He’s talking about the difference between living at the level of doxa vs. living at the level of sophia: philodoxy vs. philosophy, divertissement vs. periagoge, Unreality vs. reality.  Again, it’s very easy to say, “Now that I’m living with my gay lover I’m in touch with my true self and my whole spiritual life has opened up!”  But that’s simply a self-serving parody of the reality Rohr is describing; that’s indulging the false self, not turning the true self toward God.  But do we have the courage to tell ourselves that?  Or will we simply use the gifts of psychology to continue to play games and to continue to justify sin?]
Q. What is the connection between finding True Self and facing death? 
A. The phrase “you must die before you die” in one form or another is found in most of the world religions. Jesus would say, “Unless the grain of wheat die it remains just a single grain.” This means that this concocted False Self, this manufactured identity that is who we all think we are, has to go. That’s what the language of being “born again” really means. It’s not some kind of magical transaction that takes place between you and God, but the death of the passing self, the one you have created for yourself. That’s what has to die. Until that False Self dies you don’t really know who you are. Once you let go of your passing self, as St. Francis said, “The second death can do you no harm.” In other words, once you have experienced the little losses and failings or falling upwards, you know at a deep level that you’ve been there before and none of it is going to kill you. You’ve already learned how to die. If you don’t learn how to die early, ahead of time, you spend your life avoiding all failure, humiliation, loss, and you’re not ready for the last death. Your True Self, your soul knows spiritual things, and knows God. So if you don’t awaken it, you really don’t know God. You can be religious, but you don’t encounter God at any depth. It’s just spinning the necessary prayer wheels, whatever your tradition tells you is the appropriate prayer wheel. It isn’t really transformative religion.
[Of course, being born again can be both an ontological change wrought by baptism and also a symbol for the death-to-false-self and rebirth-to-God (and therefore to true-self): it can be both.  As with everything in Scripture, it can be both literally and symbolically true at the same time.  And, if I’ve learned anything from my Devout Catholic friends, it’s that “transformative religion” is the very last thing most of them want.  What most of us want is a more powerful false self, not the pain and sacrifice required to act from the true self.  And so, as insightful as all this is, if it’s not coupled with the humility, the basic humility, of our need for a savior, the recognition that we will turn all good gifts to the bad without God’s help – including the great good gift of psychological insight – then it’s a tool that’s ripe for abuse.]
Q. How can we make contact with our True Self? 
A. It is hard work to remain in contact with your True Self. That’s why daily prayer is important. Somehow we have to reestablish our foundational ground over and over because we lose it every day. I surely do. I get caught up in letters, emails, what people want of me, what I need to be, the little dance I have to do today for this person or that person. It may be necessary, but if you are living in that world, that revolving hall of mirrors, you so get enchanted with these reflections of what everybody thinks you are or wants you to be that you forget or you never discover who you really are before you did anything right or anything wrong, before you had your name, your reputation, your education, your family, your culture. That’s how we get caught up in what some call our “survival dance.” Finding True Self is about finding your sacred dance, who you are forever and who you always will be. That’s the self that can go to Heaven, if you want to put it that way, because it’s already in Heaven. It’s already there. So you’re returning home.
[I agree with this – with the caveat that heaven is not our heaven.  If we think we make heaven, we end up creating hell on earth.  If we find heaven, both the “Kingdom of God that is within you / among you” and the Kingdom of God that only fully comes outside of time and the world, we find it.  We don’t make it.  It’s objective, like truth itself; and getting there is a gift, a grace.  It’s real, like God.  It’s not a construct.  This is, in fact, implicit in everything Rohr says.  If the false self is false, it’s because we’ve concocted it to suit our needs; it’s made by us.  The true self is discovered by us.  It’s true because it’s there, it’s objective.  It’s a fact, as is God, who is the source of all facts and who is Himself the truest self.]
Q. Where did the title, Immortal Diamond, come from? 
A. The metaphor immortal diamond came from a poem by the Jesuit Englishman, Gerard Manley Hopkins. The last lines of this beautiful poem say, “I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and/ This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,/ Is immortal diamond.” When I first wanted to clarify this notion of True Self/False Self, I immediately said that’s going to be the, the metaphor. I think it names what I’m talking about, something that’s strong, true, clear, but hidden within us.

[What’s good about all of this is very good indeed.  What’s bad about it is what’s left unsaid.]


So there you have it.  Hope this was not too hard to folloe.

Why Seems It So Particular with Thee?

John Henry Newman on a problem he noticed roughly 200 years ago …

It is very much the fashion at present to regard the Saviour of the world in an irreverent and unreal way—as a mere idea or vision … [offering] vague statements about His love … [and] while the thought of Christ is but a creation of our minds, it may gradually be changed or fade away.

… so this is not a new problem.

Against this vagueness and blur, in opposition to the Unreality of Jesus the Nice Guy, Newman suggests something that most Catholics would consider novel.  He says to know this Person Jesus, you could simply read the Gospels.

… when we contemplate Christ as manifested in the Gospels, the Christ who exists therein, external to our own imaginings, and who is as really a living being, and sojourned on earth as truly as any of us, then we shall at length believe in Him with a conviction, a confidence, and an entireness, which can no more be annihilated than the belief in our senses. It is impossible for a Christian mind to meditate on the Gospels, without feeling, beyond all manner of doubt, that He who is the subject of them is God; but it is very possible to speak in a vague way of His love towards us, and to use the name of Christ, yet not at all to realize that He is the Living Son of the Father, or to have any anchor for our faith within us, so as to be fortified against the risk of future defection.

I know this is difficult 19th century prose, but what he’s saying is simply that Christ had a particular character, and was not an amorphous blob, blurry and fuzzy: and His character was, rather disturbingly, Divine.

The theological implication of this fact is what I would call the particularity of the saints.

We are sanctified not as indistinguishable blurry “nice guys” but as very particular individuals with zest and with deliberate things we are and are not.  Grace perfects nature, including the nature of our form, our limitations, our personalities.

Young people today seem to think that individuality is all about what music you like.  Demographic marketing and the niche of your favorite band defines who you are, and so if you find someone who likes the same garage band as you, you’ve found (one would assume) a compatible friend.  But, on the contrary, the mystery of who we are, and of what we are called to (our vocation) is much more personal and particular and even more biting and painful than the music we listen to.

It is like the stinging taste of salt.  And this ringing and stringent flavor is something we are not to deny.

Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his. savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good. for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.  (Mat. 5:13)

But when was the last time you went to a suburban Mass and had any sense that the particular – the particular anything – mattered?

Why I Believe

I became an atheist at age 9.   I became Catholic (of all things!) 30 years later.  This, after hating Catholics most of my life and agreeing with all of my artistic and theatrical friends that the Catholic Church was ridiculous at best, contemptuous at worst.

But, even now 17 years after my reception into the Church, I remain adamant about one thing.  If this is all a lie or a pleasant fiction, we should burn all the churches.  If this is all a lie, it is the worst lie in history.  If the Church is merely a human institution, then it will only get even more corrupt than it already is and it should be torn to pieces.  If people believe because it feels good, to hell with people and to hell with belief – and to hell with needing a lie to feel good.  You want the truth?  You can’t handle the truth!  But if we’re worthy of the name “men” or “women”, we can handle the truth – God or no God.

After all, Jesus Christ told us, “The truth will make you free”.  That much even atheists would agree on.  Or at least they should – if they were more than fad atheists playing party games with nihilism.

And I know, I know – it’s Easter and that whole rising from the dead thing is a bit much, but that’s not really what turns people off.  (By the way, if Jesus did not rise from the dead – crazy as that sounds – then the whole thing is false.  “If Christ be not raised, then is your faith in vain,” as St. Paul was honest enough to say, “and we are the most miserable of men”. – 1 Cor. 15:17  So don’t be a “Christian” because Christ was a nice guy; He was God and the proof of that was His resurrection; if you don’t believe that, well, that’s understandable, but then stay home on Sundays and don’t get a job as a fill-in pastor at a Presbyterian church … which is a story I’ll tell in my book.)

What turns people off, and what turned me off for all of my young life, was not the miracles or the resurrection or the weird Christian culture or the Bible.  Far from it.  The Gospels, in particular, always fascinated me, and I remain (I’m sorry to say) one of the few Catholics who regular reads Scripture (apparently).

What turned me off then and what turns me off now was Christians and what they did with their faith.  As Groucho once said to Chico, “I want to join a club and beat you over the head with it.”  That sums up a lot of what Christians do with “Christianity”.

Bl. John Henry Newman described what’s behind this attitude found in many Christians …

They forget that all men are at best but learners in the school of Divine Truth, and that they themselves ought to be ever learning … They find it a much more comfortable view, much more agreeable to the indolence of human nature, to give over seeking, and to believe they had nothing more to find.

This is the problem.  And it’s endemic in the Catholic Church, at least.  Eric Voegelin describes it this way …

Certainties, now, are in demand for the purpose of overcoming uncertainties with their accompaniment of anxiety … [and yet] … Uncertainty is the very essence of Christianity.  …  “Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” (Heb. 11:1)

The bond [of faith] is tenuous, indeed, and it may snap easily. The life of the soul in openness toward God, the waiting, the periods of aridity and dullness, guilt and despondency, contrition and repentance, forsakenness and hope against hope, the silent stirrings of love and grace, trembling on the verge of a certainty which if gained is loss—the very lightness of this fabric may prove too heavy a burden for men who lust for massively possessive experience.

I love that last line.  We are “men who lust for massively possessive experience”!  We all are.

JRR Tolkien describes this very lust and the disenchantment that accompanies it.

[The things that become disenchanted] are the things that we have appropriated, legally or mentally. We say we know them. They have become like the things which once attracted us by their glitter, or their colour, or their shape, and we laid hands on them, and then locked them in our hoard, acquired them, and acquiring ceased to look at them.

In other words, God becomes a mere tool for prideful man, for anxious man, for lazy man; a possession, a “thing” like other “things”.

This is why we need a savior.  Because even the greatest gift we’ve been given – faith in a merciful and just God – is something we want to put in our pockets or “lock in our horde” and use for our own security, to allay our anxiety, or (what is worse) to use as a kind of weapon, a club we join and beat people over the head with.

Both believers and non-believers have this trait, this hard-heartedness, this possessiveness, this tendency not to be humble in the presence of the truths of God, but to appropriate and manipulate them.  One of the most apparently devout young Catholics I knew used faith in God as a giant contraceptive against reality, keeping the Spirit out while maintaining the bubble of fiction that was her life, a bubble she made certain He never pierced.   She lived a life devoted to Spiritual Contraception (and physical contraception, for that matter).  The quasi-atheist quasi-Catholic friend I described here is not intent on approaching God (and hence the meaning of life) with humility and genuine curiosity, but instead is set on constructing clever arguments that Jesus would be too foolish to penetrate.   And yet what is life but this reaching out in faith … this anxious trust that what we do in time matters eternally, that if we seek we find, that if we love we will somehow be loved back – and that even if we’re not, it’s the offering, the act, that matters?

One of my best friends is an agnostic, or at least won’t discuss matters of faith.  But she gives her entire heart and soul and being into educating children – a job which she finds eternally significant, though she would never describe it in those terms.  She knows, as we all do, that love outlasts time and death.  In that sense, she knows the inner meaning of the Resurrection better than most “massively possessive” Christians do.

Another friend of mine is a non-Christian and is in desperate need of cheap health insurance.  He looked into a Christian Health Share program, which would have saved him a lot of money, but refused to join it because they demand a profession of faith and he refused to lie in order to join the group.  He refused to lie!  He, a non-Christian, refused to claim to be a Christian, even though it would have benefited him to say so.  And yet, one of my most discouraging battles on the internet over the years was with “devout” Catholics who kept insisting that lying could be a good thing – a holy and righteous thing! – despite settled Church teaching on the contrary.

We could all give examples like this, examples of people who reject “Christianity” and yet behave better than most Christians, who believe in the transcendent nature of love, sacrifice, morality.

This is why I believe.  Because it’s true.  I believe in the dogmas, but the dogmas are signposts, signposts to encourage us to keep seeking, to keep praying, to keep living “in openness toward God”; they are not walls in which to barricade ourselves and keep God and others out.  We search because even through passion, death and darkness, even through the horror of Good Friday and the loneliness of Holy Saturday, even through moods of despair and absurdity, even through all of this, if we seek, we find – we find in the depths, we find in the tomb, we find in one another, the silent secret of new life.