Lets face it we live in a world of instant gratification. You see it, you want it (but don’t necessarily need it), and you buy it. “It” might last for 6 months before the next “it” comes along that has 3 things different, none of which you use, and then the cycle starts all over.
About three months ago when the newest iPhone came out, I happened to be in town and passed one phone store after another where the que stretched around the block. After the fourth such occurrance I stopped to ask one of the guys in the que what everyone was waiting for. “New iPhone” came the reply. It was clear however, that all of these folks already had the “old” iPhone, and that those devices were working perfectly fine – I saw dozens of them tapping, snapping, and yaking away on them. But the “new” iPhone was the new “it” and it must be possessed.
Staying on the mobile phone topic – every 12 months my mobile phone contract comes up for renewal. Sometime before, and for sometime after, the company starts calling: ‘You’ll want a new phone, we can arrange that for you.’ Well, no actually, my existing phone does just fine thanks. ‘But the new ones have über-megapixel photos, and crystaline-HD video . . .’ Yeah . . . but I only want a phone. I’ve got a very good camera, and a very good camcorder thanks very much. My phone works fine, now go away. The caller always hangs up in bemused despair, not comprehending why I don’t want the newest, shiniest, fashion accessory.
With both examples – the “new” iPhone, that drove hundreds to que outside shops around the block on a sunny morning, and the annual ritual of renewal, I experience the corollary or is it the consequences of living in an instant gratification society. The power of marketing, and the push to take something from the realm of the useful, functional, and helpful, into the realm of . . . meaningless fashion accessory. In this way the “it” item of today, quickly goes out of fashion, only to be replaced by the next “it”and people . . . .almost unconsciously it seems . . . are lead out into the streets to que for hours to buy “it” only to repeat the process 6 months later!
During the fourth century Christianity went through a period of enthusiastic asceticism. Asceticism it should be said is not what we often popularly percieve as a scrawny sun baked individual beating and lashing himself for Jesus (indeed many of the more famous ascetics taught that this was sinful abuse). Rather asceticism was about fine-tuning the spirit, character, and body of the individual, training him or her towards transcendence.
One key feature of this self disciplline, was to learn to challenge, even set aside those voices that constantly demand instant gratification: “must have”, “must do”, “must be seen to do”, “must . . must. . . .must. . . .”. One often finds in the recorded teachings of the desert fathers the instruction to sit in your cell, be content, and work your craft (usually spinning or braiding cord and baskets). To be content, with what you have, and to acquire the inner serenity that leads to clarity of thought, and the ability to sift through the many “must haves” that we impose upon ourselves, to find communion, and the realisation of one’s whole self.
Today, the fervour for vigorous asceticism is long gone – and that is not necessarily a bad thing. What we can learn from the example of the fourth century pioneers however, is a “modern” asceticism (St. Athanasius for example said anyone – regardless of their vocation, or station in life, could practice moderate asceticism and benefit from it); and that is to live simply, to be content with what we need, rather than everything that we are “told” we want.
The benefits of this asceticism are many, but here are just a few. Firstly you buy less, and learn to buy quality that lasts, rather than quantity. Secondly you unleash your creativity – you learn to enjoy making and doing things for yourself, and with others. Thirdly with very little effort you find that you’re reducing your environmental impact – which is of course good for everyone (though not necessarily the businesses screaming at you in adverts to buy buy buy).
How does this fit into a spiritual practice, an expression of our Christian faith? Simple, we are stewards of the earth – a lower environmental impact is a good thing. Following the example of Jesus we are enjoined to promote social justice – many of the cheap, low quality, mass produced items we buy, and throw away in six months, are produced in situations that would make a dictator weep in shame. Finally, with less clutter, less stuff, and more opportunities to engage and create with others, and for others, one finds that the fulfillment of things is replaced with a more stable, deeper fulfillment of personality – this is an expression of true asceticism, and the goal of Christian teaching.
Looking for ideas, places to start, here are a few very good links. We Live Simply is a site with all sorts of ideas, and conversations about getting the best out of less. The Really Good Life is similar, more personalised, and I think has a more of a DIY approach. Finally, How Can I Recycle This? is a site that does what it says – people ask, and people answer, and along the way you get some really good ideas in the most unexpected places. If you know of any similar sites, by all means post them in the comments.
Last night I handed my PhD thesis over to my supervisor. In theory this means I have crossed the threshold from darkness into light – I am now exiting the cave. What comes next? I’m not sure, I know at some point in the not too distant future there is somethign called “the submission” followed by something else called “the defence” but I long ago gave up trying to get a clear plan, a succinct vision of how this thing works from my University.
This morning for the first time in quite a few weeks, I did my morning trawl, not thinking about the thesis, not dreading that stack of paper 7cm thick sitting next to me shrieking for attention. This morning I could (and have) rest, and think about other things, other possibilities.
A few weeks ago I ordered Rob Angus Jones’ book Independent Sacramental Bishops: Ordination, Authority, Lineage and Validity I’ve been looking forward to sitting down and reading this. My scan through suggests that it is well done, and thoughtful.
I have a stack of other books that have sat there, patiently quietly waiting to be loved, and read. Its all theology (of course) but more importantly it is NOT a thesis.
I have half baked, partially chewed morsels of various research and writing projects (most of an indie nature) sitting quietly in the background of my hard-drive – now, perhaps some of these can be dusted off, and re-visited.
It is amazing how something that you envisioned working one way, and that worked in a completely different way, can be so disruptive, destructive even. But I’m standing before that fine line that shift in colour that is the border between the cave, and the filtered light of the green forest. I can hear birds, and a brook, and I can even see flowers. They are also NOT the thesis.
So this morning for the first time in weeks I could sit down and do my morning trawl. Ever since the origin of this blog I spend a little time each day looking through religious news feeds and other sites of interest to see if anything inspires a post from an OC/IC point of view.
I have often asked what exactly is that point of view – what is our point of reference. And today is not different. Visiting a couple of my favourite sites on simple/eco/creative living I’ve noticed perhaps for the first time that many of them have “manifestos” that is a small set of ideas that serve as a launch pad for action, what we in the “pray-trade” would call praxis.
The Anglicans have a manifesto – the 39 articles – the Lutherans too. In the 19th century the Old Catholic movement had a manifesto as well. But here we are the proverbial ugly step-sister of the Old Catholic movement, and over 100 years later, perhaps it is time to evaluate our ethos, our reason for being, and deliberately, thoughtfully consider a renewed manifesto.
My question then is – what points of reference, what diving boards of praxis would you include in your “Indie Manifesto” and why? I can think of a few but would rather not influence the outcome so am asking you to speak up first (grin).
If you’ve not already noticed I’ve been editing my thinking on the “spiritual but not religious” idea as I go along. Looking at the conversation developing here, as well as thinking about various tangents (thus my first post on it here).
Thanks to Sam Urfer I’m quoting from the Onion:
“Father Clancy Donahue of St. Michael Catholic Church told reporters Wednesday that while he believed in blindly adhering to the dogma and ceremonies of his faith, he tried not to get too bogged down by actual spirituality. “I’m not so much into having a relationship with God as I am into mechanically conducting various rituals,” Donahue said. “To me, it just feels empty to contemplate a higher power without blindly obeying canon law and protecting the church as an institution.” Donahue emphasized that although he did not personally agree with those who pondered the eternal, he had nothing against them.”
Funny as this is it hits the mark when it comes to thinking about a definition of “religious” and “spiritual”. Is being religious merly thoughtless ritualism? Is being spiritual all about the ethereal, the intangible elements of relating?
Working on my PhD thesis I had to come up with a sensible “working definition” for “cult” and “devotion” and was surprised at how difficult it was largely because there is so much overlap between them that a cut and dried, black and white definition becomes rather awkward. If the same can be said of “spiritual” and “religious” does the description “spiritual but not religious” have any concrete meaning?
Surely there is a Venn Diagram for this somewhere (grin).
Thinking about this possible overlap reminds me of a study published last year about the nature of people’s belief and participation in Christian faith communities. I’m afraid I cannot remember who did the study – I think it was Pew. One of the interesting features of contemporary Christian belief is that most people believe that Christianity is not the only way to God, and that many people draw on the practices and ideas of other non-Christian faith traditions. Based on the tongue in cheek definition kindly provided by the Onion; does this mean that a significant portion of the body of Christian faithful are more “spiritual” than they are “religious”?
Finally, following the same “working” definition. I wonder should I switch from describing myself as “faithful” to “spiritual AND religious”? I value the intangible sense of intimacy with the Divine, and I participate in, indeed perform the rituals of the cult of Christ.
This little “sapling” of a conversation deserves more than its getting.
Looking at not only my own initial response on Twitter, as well as the response of others (see previous post) I’m realising that these two words are very “loaded”. Huw, rightly observes that the underlying question remains unanswered – what is our working definition of “spiritual”? What is our working definition of “religious”?
But here’s the caveat to those questions – can we define them without reference to the ongoing liberal vs. conservative war within and among faith communities? If we do succeed what affect does this have on the self description “spiritual but not religious”? Honestly, I’m not sure I have a definition – at least not yet – that is not consciously, or unconsciously rooted in the existing loaded nature of “spiritual” and “religious”.
Can I throw a spanner in the works here and ask – is there a difference between “religious” and “being faithful”? I ask this because it is how I often describe myself. It seems to me that to describe one self as being faithful is to actively divorce one self from the liberal vs. conservative, us vs. them, divisions.
Last week my friend and fellow Indie-Easterner Huw posed this question on Twitter: “Define ‘Spiritual but not religious’.” My initial response encompassed two ideas that I’ve encountered over the years from a significant number of people who describe themselves as being “spiritual but not religious”. First is the idea that the “institution” of religion impedes communion with God. Second that “dogma” or “doctrine” also impedes communion with God. Both of these themes have some very interesting problems. For example, people who describe themeselves as “spiritual but not religious” and go on to discuss their dissatisfaction at what they percieve to be the overly dogmatic nature of religous communities – frequently go on to make very clear statements of belief (doctrine) themselves. Opening the jar of questions about what do we know, and what do we percieve about the collection of teaching involved in a particular religious identity or praxis.
Huw uncovered an article from First Things “Spirituality Without Spirits” while a bit of a rant – makes an interesting point about the quality of being “non-dogmatic” in relation to also being “spiritual but not religious”:
“I don’t think Ms. Gaga or anyone else who talks like this has really thought it through. That God who forgives everyone and excludes no one doesn’t object to debauches in Berlin sex clubs. A point in his favor, from one point of view. But then he doesn’t object to murderers and torturers and corrupt bankers either. A point in his favor from no one’s point of view.”
Miller (the author) makes a fine point when he later says: “The word “spiritual” has no useful meaning if it does not refer to a relation to a real spirit. . . ” This is very true of course because that spirit necessarily has an identity, one which demands a particular relational mode, and that in turn shapes and informs the individual relating to it – just as all of our relationships shape and inform us as individuals.
In this morning’s news trawl I happened across another article this time in the Telegraph reporting that Mark Hucknull, the Chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral (a fantastic English cathedral by the way), criticises the “spiritual but not religous” crowd as selfish:
“To say that ‘I’ am ‘spiritual’ here is on a par with saying that ‘I’ am patient or thoughtful or generous; it is a description that is all about ‘me’.”
In truth this is not an unfair criticism. Think about the two themes already mentioned – the underlying issue in both is a desire to not be accountable, to not be challenged, and to not be expected to do X or Y in conjunction with one’s religious identity and praxis.
I’m aware that I’ve over-taken my usual 300 or so word limit so please bear with me just a few lines more, as I tie this into an OC/IC context. Ihave often heard indie folk, clergy and laity alike insist on being “non-dogmatic” or “non-doctrinal” – in essence “spiritual but not religious” the reasons given are that they endured the abuses of the “institutional church” and its imposition of doctrine through the activity of church officials. But It seems to me that they have run to the exact opposite extreme. The extremes at both ends are heretical as St. Epiphanius says in the Panarion.
“Spiritual but not religious” has had a lasting impact on the shape of the indie community over the past 20 years at least – one effect of this has been the simple fact that indie communities are fickle because people are afraid of committment, and they are afraid to call one another to account – because it might make them unpopular, and thereby shrink the “numbers” within the community. The problem with this model is that there is no integrity in it. Many people who convert – who become OC/IC believers do so because they are seeking a stronger connection between the integrity of the community and the practice of their sacramental Christian faith. “Spiritual but not religous” – non-dogmatic, simply does not cut it.
Have a look at the two articles, and maybe follow the sapling exchange of this thread on Twitter, but certainly add your thoughts to the comments below here.
Growth Spurts
Six months ago my garden stopped. Or so it seemed. Leaves turned brown and dropped off. Flowers vanished. Vines ceased producing fruit, withered, and crumbled. Newts, butterflies, moths, dragonflies; even the neighbour’s cat – disappeared. For five months or so I stood on the patio looking out over a brown, crumpled, lifeless trapezoid (our garden is not quite rectangular).
It was empty.
It was spent.
I sometimes wondered if this vine, or that fruit tree would ever spring back to life – would it survive the “down time”.
The “visual” of my garden in that down time, was deceptive, for underneath the surface things were happening. Trees were resting, and preparing for the spring. Newts were hibernating (at least I think they hybernate), eggs were maturing, the ground was renewing its richness. Things were happening in the quiet of “down time” that were not immediately apparent.
Here we are some six months later and the fruit trees have blossomed, and are covered in little fruits and leaves. Lettuce, beans, and melons are sprouting reaching ever higher preparing to put on their annual show. Newts have returned to the pond in droves, and are in full mating show. The fish have lifted themselves from the bottom, shaken off their winder slumber and are zipping around demanding food and looking to mate in a few weeks time. Bamboo shoots are popping up left and right, mint is spreading, bay is flowering, irises have produced long stalks with promising buds. The active life has returned to the garden.
And so it is with one’s spiritual life. We go through periods of intense activity, engagement, interest. Then something throws a switch and shuts it all down – or so we think. We become emotionally detached, even a bit depressed, wondering, “where did it all go?” But it comes back.
Perhaps the trick is to learn to cultivate a less enthusiastic, more consistent “sense” of spirituality, so that the “garden” produces year round and not just in the few months of spring and summer. A skill which I think is much more difficult than it appears – on the surface at least.
It’s finally here – today is “clean monday”, the fast has begun. So here’s the question: what is “the fast” all about anyway?
Athanasius writing in the fourth century said that a bit of moderate asceticism was useful for everyone – not just ascetics (read – monks, virgins, nuns and vowed widows). But the age of “asceticism” which has played an enormous role in shaping Christian praxis – is ostensibly over (something lamented by fifth and sixth century writers). Does this mean that the Great Fast no longer has purpose?
The fast before Pascha has taken on a life of its own – originating in an act of solidarity with those preparing for baptism it has grown from a one week communal event to a 50 day extravaganza. This is not a bad thing – rather it is simply the natural progression this practice took.
Similarly – in modern practice at least – many of the “mini lents” that preceded the major feast days are no longer observed – instead our communal act of asceticism and solidarity has been collected, sorted, and sunk into “Great Lent”. Are we not perhaps missing out on a valuable opportunity for re-investing in personal and communal praxis?
Stepping away from the mechanics of the when, and how of fasting – lets look at the connection between the act of fasting and the theology of food, and the relationship we as sacramental Christians have with food, and with one another through the symbolism of foods and eating. Without looking in your copy of the Gospels – recall some of the major “it” moments in the Gospels: the wedding at Cana, the feeding of the multitude, dining with Zaccheus, Jesus annointed by the woman with the alabaster jar, the last supper, the revealation on the road to Emmeus . . . Each of these major moments in the unfolding of the Salvation narrative happened in the context of a meal – of sharing food. Food, the act of eating together and alone has theological value in sacramental Christianity. If you missed that, what were you doing when you last went to liturgy?
But “food” and eating is something we in Western Europe often take for granted – it is unconsciously separted from our experience of the sacred. We rush out to grab a sandwich or a take-away during the working day – in order to inhale it at our desk, and continue ploughing through work. We attend lavish balls and parties because it is an expression of the host’s largesse (read – wealth and self importance), and it gives us a notch on the bed-post of our own accumulated status. Food is a means to an end, a means of aquiring status, but it has no overt or intrinsic link with our spirituality in day to day affairs. Periods of “fasting” throughout the liturgical year then can help us re-tune that link, restore awareness of the value and meaning of choosing, preparing, and eating a meal. Cooking and eating as praxis – who would have thought!
Revisiting the idea of solidarity for a moment – many of us are increasingly aware of how our consumer choices are having an impact on the environment, and on others. The recent mad dash for bio-fuel has meant that poor nations seeking to reap the immediate benefits of a cash crop switch from food production that is consumed locally, to crop production which is then taken away in exchange for money. The problem of course is that when you are no longer producing your own food – you have to buy it, possibly from a more expensive, non-local source. Throughout the Great Fast we can take the opportunity to choose differently, and in so doing perhaps make a positive contribution to those who have fewer choices available. This by the way ought not to be taken as a replacement for our duty to give alms during Lent.
For the reasons of solidarity with others, of re-investing in the relationship between food and praxis, I’ve wondered out loud for the past few years if it would not be better to resurrect the older model of multiple mini-fasts throughout the year. This would have the effect (in theory at least) of developing a year round awareness, and praxis rather than the mad dash to cram an enormous amount of meaning and activism into one month.
The Economist has a good article on some recent (and not so recent) moves linking religious communities with addressing ecological issues (not just climate change, I’d say). They report that a recent meeting of religious leaders, Prince Philip and Ban Ki-moon resulted in various action plans according to one’s tradition.
The Daoists for example have comitted to burning less incense – this is the one that caught my attention most. It is a rather curious idea – when you sit and think about it you can certainly see how that could affect one’s carbon foot print (the harvesting, and burning of plant materials for incense releasing trapped carbon, and/or inhibiting the absorbtion of additional/existing carbon). Here we’ve talked a little bit about incense – and sourcing it locally/indiginously – could that also have a positive effect? Think of the air-miles involved in transporting myrrh, and frankincense for example, whereas something locally grown, or produced in your region would, simply due to the reduction in transport carbon emissions – be greener.
How does your community source the bread used for your local eucharist? How green are Ghostie-toasties? How green is home-baked bread (leavened or unleavened)? I don’t know. I suspect however, that the lamentable bone white wafer is far from being green. But where did the wheat come from for baking your local bread? Here in the UK most of our bread baking wheat, I think, still comes mostly from Canada – eeek!
Would a service lit solely with beeswax candles be greener than say one illuminated with eco-bulbs?
Are we indie folk asking these questions in our communities? If so – what is your community doing?
But while I’m fast approaching my word-limit/post I’d like to re-visit a related topic which is, I suspect, an even more effective means of Indie-Eco-Activism: Food! Food production, and food security is a very serious issue one that has a huge, HUGE impact on ecology and not in your back yard necessarily, but in the back, front, and side gardens of those least able to afford the consequences.
Over the past 100 years throughout the Christian world our theology of food, has quietly smouldered in the background, some of the best elements – like traditional fasting periods – having been eroded, until they are little more than vestigial digits on our calenders.
Perhaps, in our tiny communities of 5, 10, and 20 people we OC/IC folk could inspire a bit of a mini-revolution in theology and praxis that brings the issue of food, and the ecological and social consequences of its production, sale, and consumption to the fore.
Given the referendums in the US, and the rise of violent (even deadly) attacks on LGB folk here in the UK this examination of the relationship between religion and LGBT youth appeared to be rather timely.
I was not aware for example, of the high percentage of homeless teens who identify as LGB folk. Moreover, the frightening consequences of their homelessness – entering the sex-trade to survive is a point well worth discussion – particularly as it has a direct impact on Christian ethics, and teaching – we who are baptised are charged to actively seek to end the suffering of others, and as I wrote some time ago:
What can we do? As individuals we can refuse to visit pornographic sites, we can support organisations that help work to free homeless teens (all of them – not just the gay ones!) from the sex-trade, and we can talk about this often un-discussed issue with others. As OC/IC communities . . . well, there are any number of ways that we can work together, collaborate, and make a real difference. But that would have to begin with our first building more trust with one another. Something I’m afraid is in lamentably short supply.
Getting involved, being engaged in the wider scope of Christian action is sometimes a bit daunting – where to you begin? What issues/needs are not being given the space they deserve at the table? And more importantly in our OC/IC context – how can our tiny local community, or regional body, contribute in substantive ways to making positive changes for others, and ourselves?
For sure, I don’t have the answers to these questions, but over the past couple of years when a possible resource for this discernment process catches my eye I’ve tried to make it register on your radar too. This morning I found a site called change.org which, a first glance, appears to do just that. Have a look – maybe you’ll find something there that you and/or your community can become more engaged with.
If you know of a similar resource please post it in the comments so we can all have look. Thanks.
Speaking Of . . .