One of the themes of my novel, Community of Promise, concerns the nature of mystical experience. That is to say, how valid are the messages that people report having received through such experiences and how can they be useful? Several of the characters in the story have mystical experiences that vary in style, content, and meaning. Individually and collectively they must learn some proper use for what they take to be divine communications.
My presupposition in the novel assigns a certain authority to the mystical realm, raising the question of the proper understanding and use of that authority. Is is legitimate for one person to assume (or be given) the right to command others based on some privately revealed divine message? Is is legitimate for a group to coalesce around a particular interpretation, proclaiming it as divine, and then use the group's collective power to impose that understanding on others? These are common questions that have affected religious identity and practice throughout history.
Conceptually, I find these to be valid and useful questions, but practically speaking, I am aware of my temptation to judge some religious groups and understandings as legitimate (of course, doesn't everyone agree that this is the truth?), and others as illegitimate “cults” and splinter groups. But, if I am going to be honest, I must question the basis on which such judgments can be made by anybody.
My reading of history tells me that “legitimacy” may be a shaky concept, because it appears that the exercise of power rather than demonstrably objective truth usually confers legitimacy. That kind of temporal power tends to manipulate “divine revelation” into a self-serving justification. So, maybe legitimacy is not really the characteristic I want to explore. Perhaps some identifiable foundation of morality (broadly defined) or ethics is more useful in dealing with experiences of mystical “revelation.”
As I see it, morality and ethics are relational terms that derive their meaning from the nature of the relationship out of which they emerge. Conversely, the nature of any relationship might also be informed by commonly held moral and ethical principles within which it exists, so that relationship and foundation exist in a living mutuality, forever challenging and embodying one another.
For this mutuality to work, we must do without the notion that individuals and groups can be “right” in any absolute sense, even about the insights and glimpses of “truth” that appear to come to us from divinely inspired mystical experiences. And while we might want to hold on to the conceptual possibility of the existence of Absolute Truth, there is a huge body of evidence to demonstrate that our human understanding of it will always be less than absolute. I take this as an axiomatic principle of reality.
Still, I think mystical glimpses of life have value and are worth seeking by whatever means we can, as long as we remember a basic principle of healthy religion that has been articulated by a number of reputable Psychologists of Religion. Healthy religious perspectives can always be modified when confronted with new information, and are not absolute in themselves. Some level of relational trust assists in the process so that we can welcome new information shared in good faith, rather than seeing it as a threat to our power or expertise.
Such an approach invites religions of any stripe to engage in mutually illuminating dialogue, not to prove who is right, but to make use of the variety of perspectives and “revelations” in a sacred attempt to apprehend more Truth for all. It may be that the collegiality emerging from this process will allow us to move from adversarial positions to positions of mutual cooperation, from enemies to friends.
Just for the record, I am not promoting “compromise” here. Compromise is defined as working for the best “deal” you can get between clearly articulated, but diverse positions. I am suggesting that healthy cooperation, even making use of “divine revelation,” is potentially transformative to all parties, often moving them to a collective position that none of them could have imagined apart from their respectful relationships. I think our world needs more of this if we are to survive, much less, thrive.
Am I being naïve and utopian? Perhaps. But, I believe that this process is still worth considering.
How do you see it?
Wayne E. Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Healing Presence in an Anxious Community
One of the hats I wear is that of consultant to churches. At times my consulting work takes place when I am the interim minister of a congregation, and sometimes when I am a hired consultant. One of the most useful questions I can ask is this: “Why is it important for this church to exist in this community?” Many times the people in churches have difficulty answering the question in that form. For many, churches simply exist – have for a long time – and “should” just continue to be.
In my opinion, churches that cannot answer this question are often in the process of dying. “Will the last person to leave, please turn out the lights and lock the door.”
A part of my job is to help congregations find healthy and functional answers regarding their purpose. One very fertile area to explore for a potential answer is the present level of anxiety that may exist in the wider community. In many (if not most) parts of the United States, communities today carry prodigious levels of anxiety. Upstate New York is no exception. The anxiety springs out of the many challenges that economic and social changes can engender. Let me give you an example:
A church I served a few years ago as interim minister was situated in a small community with a vibrant history. That community had been supported for many years by a single major industry. (The particular identity of this industry does not matter because stories like this have played out in many forms and with various details throughout the upstate region.) When the industry moved out of town, it not only left a huge economic gap, but it also left a residue of distrust and anxiety. These feelings were expressed in questions like: “Who are we without our industry?” “How will we survive?” “We've given heart and soul to 'them.' Don't they care about us?” (And the most painful question of all...) “Weren't we good enough for them, or was there something wrong with us that caused them not to stay here?” Over time the anxiety spread to the local government, law enforcement, and, of course, to the churches.
Now, we all know that life is fundamentally dangerous and is filled with peril. We also know that we are clever and resourceful, so when we are confronted with clearly identifiable dangers our communities can often respond with creativity and purpose. However, it happens too often that when communities, organizations, or families experience traumatic events, they don't know how to handle those in a creative way. They try to “put it behind” them and just go on, but the inner experience of violation, vulnerability, and unspecified blame results in free-floating anxiety. It becomes difficult to trust anyone from the outside, but it is just as hard to trust anyone on the inside.
The loss of economic support from the departure of an industry is one kind of trauma, but there are many others, like racism and classism, to give a couple of examples. In response to any trauma at any level (family, organization, or community), anxiety spawns emotional reactivity, that in turn spawns less safety, more anxiety, and even more reactivity. In general terms, smaller units can deal with anxiety more easily than larger ones. In turn, a relatively non-anxious individual can help lower the anxiety of any larger group. (Or a relatively non-anxious smaller group can do it for a larger community.) Many useful books have been written on this topic (See Ronald W. Richardson, or Peter Steinke).
For this post, I am suggesting that one way for a local church (or other community organization) to answer its “purpose question” is to see itself as a potential “non-anxious presence” in its wider community. For Christian churches, we can draw from Jesus' invitation for us not to be afraid. Our relative lack of fear (and anxiety is a form of fear) can then help us create safe opportunities for people in the wider communities to work through the effects of their collective trauma.
Being a non-anxious presence is not about fixing a community's problems. Frankly some challenging conditions are not fixable. This approach is more about creating an atmosphere of relative safety that encourages communication, helps build relationships, and promotes community health.
As I see it, we need a lot of that.
What do you think?
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
In my opinion, churches that cannot answer this question are often in the process of dying. “Will the last person to leave, please turn out the lights and lock the door.”
A part of my job is to help congregations find healthy and functional answers regarding their purpose. One very fertile area to explore for a potential answer is the present level of anxiety that may exist in the wider community. In many (if not most) parts of the United States, communities today carry prodigious levels of anxiety. Upstate New York is no exception. The anxiety springs out of the many challenges that economic and social changes can engender. Let me give you an example:
A church I served a few years ago as interim minister was situated in a small community with a vibrant history. That community had been supported for many years by a single major industry. (The particular identity of this industry does not matter because stories like this have played out in many forms and with various details throughout the upstate region.) When the industry moved out of town, it not only left a huge economic gap, but it also left a residue of distrust and anxiety. These feelings were expressed in questions like: “Who are we without our industry?” “How will we survive?” “We've given heart and soul to 'them.' Don't they care about us?” (And the most painful question of all...) “Weren't we good enough for them, or was there something wrong with us that caused them not to stay here?” Over time the anxiety spread to the local government, law enforcement, and, of course, to the churches.
Now, we all know that life is fundamentally dangerous and is filled with peril. We also know that we are clever and resourceful, so when we are confronted with clearly identifiable dangers our communities can often respond with creativity and purpose. However, it happens too often that when communities, organizations, or families experience traumatic events, they don't know how to handle those in a creative way. They try to “put it behind” them and just go on, but the inner experience of violation, vulnerability, and unspecified blame results in free-floating anxiety. It becomes difficult to trust anyone from the outside, but it is just as hard to trust anyone on the inside.
The loss of economic support from the departure of an industry is one kind of trauma, but there are many others, like racism and classism, to give a couple of examples. In response to any trauma at any level (family, organization, or community), anxiety spawns emotional reactivity, that in turn spawns less safety, more anxiety, and even more reactivity. In general terms, smaller units can deal with anxiety more easily than larger ones. In turn, a relatively non-anxious individual can help lower the anxiety of any larger group. (Or a relatively non-anxious smaller group can do it for a larger community.) Many useful books have been written on this topic (See Ronald W. Richardson, or Peter Steinke).
For this post, I am suggesting that one way for a local church (or other community organization) to answer its “purpose question” is to see itself as a potential “non-anxious presence” in its wider community. For Christian churches, we can draw from Jesus' invitation for us not to be afraid. Our relative lack of fear (and anxiety is a form of fear) can then help us create safe opportunities for people in the wider communities to work through the effects of their collective trauma.
Being a non-anxious presence is not about fixing a community's problems. Frankly some challenging conditions are not fixable. This approach is more about creating an atmosphere of relative safety that encourages communication, helps build relationships, and promotes community health.
As I see it, we need a lot of that.
What do you think?
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Are Opinions True?
Opinions are important, but they have no right masquerading as truth. I used to believe that Truth possessed an intrinsic value that made it worth pursuing by most people, but I have observed so much reluctance to let fact influence opinion, that my belief was clearly naïve. The loss of that belief is a great tragedy to me.
From my newly acquired cynical perspective, it appears that attempts to assuage fear by indulging in rampant acquisitiveness continue to dominate the political, economic, and religious arenas. In politics, people seek power (and money), in business, money (and money), and in religion, the authority to be “right” (and of course, money!). We could add science and a host of other academic disciplines to the list of participants, each of which succumbs to characteristic temptations that obscure and overwhelm the search for truth.
Some would argue that Truth does not even exist, and that it can never escape the limits of human subjectivity, so for the sake of this essay, I define Truth as more of a direction than a destination. That is to say, the inability to reach it in any absolute sense does not make the search worthless. It is always possible to understand more Truth; it's just not possible to arrive at the final goal.
This essay does not set out to demonstrate that our various institutions and disciplines are intentionally perverse, manipulative, or dishonest, (although these characteristics are always present in some measure). The more central issue has to do with prejudices, blind spots, and unexplained presuppositions that function unconsciously. By this I mean that while we might know what we believe, we don't realize that it isn't the absolute Truth about life.
It seems to me that such unconscious impediments to clear thinking are often reinforced by fear and anxiety – of being controlled by others, of not having “enough” (defined as “a little more than I have now), and of making a “wrong” decision that might result in pain, loss, and/or punishment. Conscious fears, those triggered by identifiable dangers, lead to appropriate protective responses. But unspecified anxiety springs out of “prejudices, blind spots, and presuppositions” in a way that spawns “axiomatic” thinking.” Or said differently, prejudices, blind spots, and presuppositions become the axiomatic “truths” upon which we then base our attitudes and behaviors. Axioms are thought to be beyond proof and therefore beyond further investigation.
In practice, however, some axioms can be modified over time, but typically they don't succumb without a fight. Let me give one example: Isaac Newton made certain axiomatic assumptions about the nature of atoms that worked out quite well as foundations for his principles of physics. More recent explorations in nuclear physics have shown his assumptions to be inadequate at best, and flat out wrong, at worst. That said, under certain conditions they work perfectly well, but not under all contitions. Our axiomatic prejudices and presuppositions work the same way. They may be “true” in certain limited situations, but may not be so true in a broader sense. And, it is our anxiety that often “promotes” limited truth into more generalized application.
I think that in order to move in the direction of greater truth, we must challenge our axioms. This challenge helps us to recognize the conditions under which they work well enough for us, while also identifying a broader set of conditions under which our axioms might not be true at all.
Returning to the title of this essay, I suggest that unexamined axioms confuse or understanding of opinions vs. truth. Our opinions may feel perfectly adequate as long as our axioms are accepted (even unconsciously) as true. But when we note the connection between our level of anxiety/fear and our tenacious hold on our fundamental beliefs (axioms), it then becomes possible for us to engage in the difficult and sometimes risky work of investigating them. I say it is risky, because we tend to build complex belief systems on the foundation of our axioms. If the foundations change, then we have to reexamine everything – and who has time for that?
I would like to believe that we could learn to celebrate any discovery that moves us in the direction of more truth, but my observations say that vigorous, and even nasty defense of our axioms is the typical response.
It appears to me that actions based on narrowly drawn axioms tends to benefit some groups and punish others and that the search in the direction of greater truth can benefit a wider swath of creation. I guess it's axiomatic for me that it is a good idea to work in the direction of greater truth.
Well, this is how I see it. What about you?
From my newly acquired cynical perspective, it appears that attempts to assuage fear by indulging in rampant acquisitiveness continue to dominate the political, economic, and religious arenas. In politics, people seek power (and money), in business, money (and money), and in religion, the authority to be “right” (and of course, money!). We could add science and a host of other academic disciplines to the list of participants, each of which succumbs to characteristic temptations that obscure and overwhelm the search for truth.
Some would argue that Truth does not even exist, and that it can never escape the limits of human subjectivity, so for the sake of this essay, I define Truth as more of a direction than a destination. That is to say, the inability to reach it in any absolute sense does not make the search worthless. It is always possible to understand more Truth; it's just not possible to arrive at the final goal.
This essay does not set out to demonstrate that our various institutions and disciplines are intentionally perverse, manipulative, or dishonest, (although these characteristics are always present in some measure). The more central issue has to do with prejudices, blind spots, and unexplained presuppositions that function unconsciously. By this I mean that while we might know what we believe, we don't realize that it isn't the absolute Truth about life.
It seems to me that such unconscious impediments to clear thinking are often reinforced by fear and anxiety – of being controlled by others, of not having “enough” (defined as “a little more than I have now), and of making a “wrong” decision that might result in pain, loss, and/or punishment. Conscious fears, those triggered by identifiable dangers, lead to appropriate protective responses. But unspecified anxiety springs out of “prejudices, blind spots, and presuppositions” in a way that spawns “axiomatic” thinking.” Or said differently, prejudices, blind spots, and presuppositions become the axiomatic “truths” upon which we then base our attitudes and behaviors. Axioms are thought to be beyond proof and therefore beyond further investigation.
In practice, however, some axioms can be modified over time, but typically they don't succumb without a fight. Let me give one example: Isaac Newton made certain axiomatic assumptions about the nature of atoms that worked out quite well as foundations for his principles of physics. More recent explorations in nuclear physics have shown his assumptions to be inadequate at best, and flat out wrong, at worst. That said, under certain conditions they work perfectly well, but not under all contitions. Our axiomatic prejudices and presuppositions work the same way. They may be “true” in certain limited situations, but may not be so true in a broader sense. And, it is our anxiety that often “promotes” limited truth into more generalized application.
I think that in order to move in the direction of greater truth, we must challenge our axioms. This challenge helps us to recognize the conditions under which they work well enough for us, while also identifying a broader set of conditions under which our axioms might not be true at all.
Returning to the title of this essay, I suggest that unexamined axioms confuse or understanding of opinions vs. truth. Our opinions may feel perfectly adequate as long as our axioms are accepted (even unconsciously) as true. But when we note the connection between our level of anxiety/fear and our tenacious hold on our fundamental beliefs (axioms), it then becomes possible for us to engage in the difficult and sometimes risky work of investigating them. I say it is risky, because we tend to build complex belief systems on the foundation of our axioms. If the foundations change, then we have to reexamine everything – and who has time for that?
I would like to believe that we could learn to celebrate any discovery that moves us in the direction of more truth, but my observations say that vigorous, and even nasty defense of our axioms is the typical response.
It appears to me that actions based on narrowly drawn axioms tends to benefit some groups and punish others and that the search in the direction of greater truth can benefit a wider swath of creation. I guess it's axiomatic for me that it is a good idea to work in the direction of greater truth.
Well, this is how I see it. What about you?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Togetherness and Individuality
In his Family Systems Theory, Dr. Murray Bowen identified two basic life forces, togetherness and individuality, that are always engaged in a lively tension in any system regardless of size. Bowen's theory posits that healthy systems foster healthy individuals, and healthy individuals tend to influence those around them to healthier (and by that I mean more mature) functioning. What, then, might be the impact of the healthy or unhealthy balance of these factors on us?
Our current political realm provides a ready-made laboratory for us to observe this dynamic. Political systems always manifest the tension between the needs of the wider community and the needs of the individual. In our present political culture, since the U. S. Supreme Court has given corporations the same rights as individuals, and has given them unlimited financial power to affect the process, we can see that the tension has become grossly unbalanced.
But before I address that, let me give you an oversimplified picture of how our political system embodies the tension. Freedom is one of the current buzz words in political discourse. When divorced from community, it becomes “the right to do anything I want, amass as much money and power as I can, and not have to consider the impact of my activities on my “neighbors.” Of course, given the choice, everyone wants the experience of freedom. No one is completely comfortable with someone else breathing down our necks in a controlling way. I said this explanation was superficial, so I will go on to say that this definition of freedom seems to represent the present Republican view. And, by the way, any other political view that does not affirm this definition of freedom is seen as “Socialist” - and we all know bad that is, don't we!
Here is the oversimplified other side. The survival and well being of “the group” becomes primary. It survives, not by giving unlimited power to the individual, but by amassing its power in the collective. When it is in balance, it champions the needs of all individuals. This understanding represents the traditional Democratic view. But when it gets out of balance, its own survival can become more important than the individual. That last sentence is true of either political persuasion.
At this moment in history, it seems that the power has swung to a pathological degree in the direction of the individual (or corporation!). The effect of a hard swing to either end of the political spectrum is always detrimental to the health of the whole system, so it seems (to me, at least) that a rebalancing is necessary for our very survival.
The nature of our present political discourse makes it almost impossible to move towards a healthier balance, because each side tends to overstate its case in “all or nothing” terms. When that happens, real compromise becomes practically impossible. There have been times in the political arena when healthy compromise has been celebrated by the participants in the process, but today, any compromise is seen as a defeat for “our side” – and the more out of balance the perspective, the more it looks that way.
I entitled this post “Togetherness and Individuality”, but in extreme political terms it could have been “Corporate power vs. State Power” When power is the “coin of the realm,” and when the loudest political voices come from unbalanced positions, the real individual (not the corporation masquerading as in individual) is always victimized. Is unbridled state power dangerous? You bet! But don't forget that unbridled corporate power as at least as dangerous!
Let's work to restore the balance so that all “real” individuals can thrive in a healthy system.
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Our current political realm provides a ready-made laboratory for us to observe this dynamic. Political systems always manifest the tension between the needs of the wider community and the needs of the individual. In our present political culture, since the U. S. Supreme Court has given corporations the same rights as individuals, and has given them unlimited financial power to affect the process, we can see that the tension has become grossly unbalanced.
But before I address that, let me give you an oversimplified picture of how our political system embodies the tension. Freedom is one of the current buzz words in political discourse. When divorced from community, it becomes “the right to do anything I want, amass as much money and power as I can, and not have to consider the impact of my activities on my “neighbors.” Of course, given the choice, everyone wants the experience of freedom. No one is completely comfortable with someone else breathing down our necks in a controlling way. I said this explanation was superficial, so I will go on to say that this definition of freedom seems to represent the present Republican view. And, by the way, any other political view that does not affirm this definition of freedom is seen as “Socialist” - and we all know bad that is, don't we!
Here is the oversimplified other side. The survival and well being of “the group” becomes primary. It survives, not by giving unlimited power to the individual, but by amassing its power in the collective. When it is in balance, it champions the needs of all individuals. This understanding represents the traditional Democratic view. But when it gets out of balance, its own survival can become more important than the individual. That last sentence is true of either political persuasion.
At this moment in history, it seems that the power has swung to a pathological degree in the direction of the individual (or corporation!). The effect of a hard swing to either end of the political spectrum is always detrimental to the health of the whole system, so it seems (to me, at least) that a rebalancing is necessary for our very survival.
The nature of our present political discourse makes it almost impossible to move towards a healthier balance, because each side tends to overstate its case in “all or nothing” terms. When that happens, real compromise becomes practically impossible. There have been times in the political arena when healthy compromise has been celebrated by the participants in the process, but today, any compromise is seen as a defeat for “our side” – and the more out of balance the perspective, the more it looks that way.
I entitled this post “Togetherness and Individuality”, but in extreme political terms it could have been “Corporate power vs. State Power” When power is the “coin of the realm,” and when the loudest political voices come from unbalanced positions, the real individual (not the corporation masquerading as in individual) is always victimized. Is unbridled state power dangerous? You bet! But don't forget that unbridled corporate power as at least as dangerous!
Let's work to restore the balance so that all “real” individuals can thrive in a healthy system.
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Friday, October 1, 2010
Amplification
Human communication can lead in two basic directions: towards more clarity and specificity, or towards broader and deeper understanding. This weekend I am leading a workshop on Basic Training for lay people doing pastoral care. One of the exercises focuses on how to be truly present with another person. Often, especially when people are communicating in some official capacity, they want to “get to the point.” That is, they want to find out what is “really” going on. I try to teach people that such a direction is not particularly helpful, that it puts the focus more on the presumed answer to some question rather than on the development of the relationship. And it tends to inhibit conversation just at the point when more conversation is the objective.
On a larger scale, this dynamic has plagued religion for millenia. Too often religious communication and preaching is designed to identify what is right, as opposed to all the other ideas that must then be wrong. This approach presumes that a “right” answer actually exists. What if, instead of striving to be right, our goal was to become more complete – that no matter how much we already understand, we can always learn more. In the workshop, I invite the participants to get into groups of three, one who asks, one who answers, and one who observes the process. They are given a list of questions. The objective is to learn as much as possible from a person as they can in five minutes – that is to say, to “amplify” their understanding of this other person. I remind them that we can never understand another person completely, so there is always room for more learning and always opportunity for more growth and development in the relationship.
I would like to believe that when people from different religious traditions come together, their objective can be to amplify their understanding by mutual sharing rather than arguing about who has it right already.
In the spirit of what I have just written, I am interested in how you see it.
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
On a larger scale, this dynamic has plagued religion for millenia. Too often religious communication and preaching is designed to identify what is right, as opposed to all the other ideas that must then be wrong. This approach presumes that a “right” answer actually exists. What if, instead of striving to be right, our goal was to become more complete – that no matter how much we already understand, we can always learn more. In the workshop, I invite the participants to get into groups of three, one who asks, one who answers, and one who observes the process. They are given a list of questions. The objective is to learn as much as possible from a person as they can in five minutes – that is to say, to “amplify” their understanding of this other person. I remind them that we can never understand another person completely, so there is always room for more learning and always opportunity for more growth and development in the relationship.
I would like to believe that when people from different religious traditions come together, their objective can be to amplify their understanding by mutual sharing rather than arguing about who has it right already.
In the spirit of what I have just written, I am interested in how you see it.
Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
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