In my little faith-sharing group yesterday, we had a discussion of “other gods” (for want of a better name for it), and I thought some of it worth passing on. First, there was talk of superstition. The Church condemns consulting horoscopes, palm-readers, and all that sort of thing as “sorcery,” and most of us think it’s silly, anyway. Yet we also recognize the reality of demonic possession, even in its varying degrees. It occurred to me afterwards that part of the confusion lies in our being the children of the Enlightenment, which denies the reality of all such notions, not selectively, but categorically.  We are so well-schooled in rationalism that our dismissal of these ideas is now an unconscious intellectual reflex. Horoscopes, we say, are nonsense; ditto, palm-readers and fortune-tellers. We don’t take them seriously, and we think that’s because we are Christians, but it isn’t—it’s because we are enlightened rationalists. Two conclusions came out of this discussion:

First, a couple of people in our group have friends or family members who are into certain “healing” beliefs and practices—something from Japan, for example, that involves a group of believers/practitioners waving their hands over someone who’s ill and “healing” them—then meditative yoga, transcendental meditation, etc. These are all “spiritual” movements. Can one be a faithful Christian and participate in these practices? Some people who do participate claim to be Christians. And it’s undeniable that many of these practices have brought peace to troubled bodies and minds—but eventually, either the practice or the Christian faith lapses. Why?

The advantage, as well as the attraction, of Buddhist or non-Christian meditations and other mental practices is that they enable detachment. This detachment can be very beneficial for those under chronic stress, for those who are enthralled by subjective reaction to a reality of fear, anguish, destructive habits, or just everyday existential angst. The great benefit is simply detachment of the self from habitual subjective reaction. If it could be understood simply as a practice that strengthens weak egos and encourages self-control, it could be a good thing. The trouble is that it’s not understood that way—because it’s not presented that way. It’s presented as a “belief,” even as a faith, as “spiritual.” And the moment we start talking about a mental health exercise as “spiritual,” we’re declaring that we’re engaging with spirits. (Sometimes we really need to look at the words we use, at what we are actually saying.)

In TM instruction, receiving our “secret” word (not very secret, since everyone is taught the same word, “ohm”), we are instructed to believe it’s our personal, private password. The concept of “secret” implies protectedness, placing ourselves under the protection (of what? it’s worth asking), a haven or refuge from a threatening environment or situation or person(s). It equates peace, safety. Into the mysticism of it all, we don’t see that for what it is: withdrawal, retreat to objectivity, to detachment, which can protect the ego and allow us judgment and self-control, at least to some extent. Unless one withdraws completely, beyond the ego (it has happened! Eventually, such persons are diagnosed as schizophrenic), it can be a healthy exercise. Our Lord taught us to be detached from the world. We are meant to be free from our own vulnerability to powers that would harm us, emotionally, physically, and especially, spiritually.

One of our group mentioned that all the “healing” spiritual movements are results-based, and that is what provided an insight into their basic incompatibility with Christianity. Such movements are in direct conflict with Christianity. How and why:

Because our faith is centered not on our gaining “results,” which is another word for “power.”  We do not seek power in our prayer; we surrender it. We do not seek our will, but his. We pray “Thy will be done.” Our God is our God, we are not our god, seeking our own will. We petition, yes, but always in deference to the sovereignty of God’s will, not our own. We are not sovereign, we belong to him. We are not free to give allegiance to anyone or anything, either physical or metaphysical.

Rationalism aside, some of these practices do “work.” They work because our Lord himself told us that spirits do exist. He performed exorcisms on both bodies and minds. And he taught us that unless he occupies the house, seven other spirits worse than the one he expelled would come and occupy it. Therein lies a danger far worse than any illness. Indulging in spiritual practices of any kind outside our faith is like taking cyanide to cure a headache.