St. Luke's Hall
The School of Theology
University of the South, Sewanee, Tennessee
“Spirit” comes from the Latin word “to breathe.” What we breathe is air, which is certainly matter, however thin. Despite usage to the contrary, there is no necessary implication in the word “spiritual” that we are talking of anything other than matter (including the matter of which the brain is made), or anything outside the realm of science. On occasion, I will feel free to use the word. Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality. When we recognize our place in an immensity of light years and in the passage of ages, when we grasp the intricacy, beauty and subtlety of life, then that soaring feeling, that sense of elation and humility combined, is surely spiritual. So are our emotions in the presence of great art or music or literature, or of acts of exemplary selfless courage such as those of Mohandas Gandhi or Martin Luther King Jr. The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both.... Carl Sagan
The following theological terms are commonly used in imprecise and often contradictory ways. This is a list of these terms as I understand and use them in my effort to articulate my theology. They are presented here in the hope of enabling more accurate communication and a deeper understanding of the experiences and thinking presented on this site.
Opthe: A comprehensive spiritual/religious (meaning) system seeking to include the widest possible spectrum of human experience and knowledge. By extension, Opthe is a consilient, naturalistic, cosmologically contemporary model for professional spiritual/religious life vocationally committed to transforming ourselves and our world in service of the welfare and wellbeing of everyone and everything on the earth, as self-conscious agents of evolution. Functionally, Opthe centers on living a disciplined praxis of Grace: unconditional love, openness, cooperation, non-violence, trust, justice, humor, compassion, altruism, vulnerability, and encouragement. Through focus, liturgy and learning it inculcates, maintains and celebrates joyousness, Grace and evolutionary co-creative agency in life, time, and space. The vison of Opthe is the realization of what the Grace Foundation calls Terra Nova (Portuguese for New Earth): a culture beyond fear, war and cruelty characterized by the recognition that all life is inter-connected and all life is sacred. A state of love.
Theology: Traditionally, theology has been understood to be the systematic and rational study of God, gods, the supernatural and of the nature of religious ideas. In light of contemporary cosmology and human self-understanding, I contend it is more accurate and useful to define it as the art and science of making meaning of the self-conscious experience of being alive; the comprehensive critical study of human relationships to those ideations, axioms and symbols in which we invest trust (faith) and from which we derive our reason for being. Anselm defined theology as faith seeking understanding (see Faith). Anglican theologian Richard Hooker defined it as the science of things sublime. Both faith and divinity are solidly grounded in human emotional and intellectual experience without any necessary association with things magical or supernatural.
Spirituality: The sum of the thoughts, emotions, and values that produce a sense of meaning for a person's life. It is the collective of all those things that gives one a sense of reason for being. No two people have identical genes, experiences, or story. In the same way, no two people have the same spirituality. Spirituality binds the often compartmentalized, inconsistent and irrational pieces of one's universe together. Spirituality is the result of an emotional and cognitive investment in something. It occurs on the feeling level first and then as thought. This attachment to the object of our spirituality emerges through praxis, both personal and communal, active and passive, consciously and unconsciously. Often, spirituality is not experienced on a cognitive level. That is, most people do not go around fretting over what is meaningful to them in their daily lives. We only become conscious of what is meaningful to us when we examine our spiritual feelings.
Grace: (As Defined by Sabine Lichtenfels, Co-Founder of the Grace Foundation)
Grace is compassion, dignity, beauty and elegance. Grace is patience that sees a new dawn at the horizon of history; Grace is the umbilical cord that connects us to this vision and guides us. Grace is also the strength to ride the bumps of life with humor and lightness.
Those who walk in the name of Grace do not come to accuse. They do not come to impart a new ideology on a land and its people; they come in the service of openness, of perception and of support. Grace listens deeply for what is most needed.
Grace is like a consciously chosen naivety that helps us to find our way through the welter of world views so that we recognize and protect the elementary and simple truth behind all things. When we stand in fierce grace we become a channel for the outcry of suppressed life.
We use the name Grace for our work because it reminds us to do everything that we do in the name of reconciliation, of the repairing of our relationship with all life and with the family of humanity.
In Grace we acknowledge that our resources are best used for the flourishing of all. To give ourselves fully is to meet in Grace. Grace is gratitude for the opportunity to serve life.
Religion: A unified, formal meaning system constructed to give symbolic representation and structure to personal spiritual concepts and feelings that enables them to be shared and enhanced in a single moral community. While a religion may be a significant part of one's spirituality, they are never identical. Religion is always in service of spirituality, although through time and praxis they become interdependent. Religion is spirituality shared and organized. It is the condition or state of spiritual sharing irrespective of the nature of the object of the religion. Thus Capitalism and other "isms" are as much a religion as is Christianity. The common understanding of religion as being identical with belief in supernatural forces or entities blinds us from grasping its real nature and pervasiveness as well its necessity. Only with an expanded definition of the term can we fully understand the claim that man is a religious animal and the absurdity of the idea religion per se can or should be discarded.
A god: Any object, symbol, idea or thing to which one becomes intuitively and rationally attached to the degree that it produces effective meaning (reason for being), thus becoming an object and source of faith.
God: The commonly used name for the god/deity/meaning object of the Judeo-Christian and other belief systems that embrace a natural-supernatural dualism, and which is frequently understood literally or metaphorically as the sole or supreme all-knowing creator of the universe. There is no empirical evidence for the existence of such an entity. There is no way to prove or disprove that such an entity exists. All ideas of God are constructions of the human mind.
Deity: A type of god, usually believed to be supernatural and often conceptualized with characteristics of earthly lifeforms.
Faith: Trust based on experience; anticipatory emotional confidence. It is produced by investing trust in a primary meaning. One can have faith in anything, objective or subjective, in which one finds cognitive and emotional meaning and in which one has invested confidence. Faith is supported by a construction of reality produced by the transformative experience of making and living an emotional/cognitive investment in a primary meaning.
Axiom: A self-evident truth that requires no proof; an accepted principle or rule. Axioms are the values that govern our lives and by which we evaluate the events, circumstances and conditions we experience. In some circumstances, axioms can become the "Theos" of one's theology.
Symbol: A representation of an experience. It points to something or some relationship within that experience. More, it provides us with a means of participating in that something or that relationship, which otherwise could not happen. A symbol is not logical and is not a one-for-one representation of the experience it represents. Symbols are multi-vocal, ambiguous, analogical and powerful.
Sign: Unlike a symbol, a sign is clear, precise, and carries a one-to-one relationship to its referent. It unambiguously represents that to which it points.
Myth: A true, although not necessarily factual, story about cultural meaning. It tells a truth which could not otherwise be easily grasped, in symbolic narrative form. Notice that this is essentially the definition of a symbol.
Praxis: Theology (theory) and its application (practice) in the form of a dynamic, intentional and evolving expression of faith for the purpose of forming, sustaining, and evolving joy and meaning.
Intentional Community: A community of people intentionally practicing a life model constructed around a primary meaning. It is characterized by joy, commitment, praxis and mutual accountability.
The Butterfly: A metaphor for human life guided and transformed by the evolving values and emotions of the neo-cortical area of the brain: joy, love, reason, logic, altruism, compassion, forgiveness and cooperation.
The Reptile: A metaphor for human life guided by our hind-brain, which we have epigenetically inherited from our reptilian ancestors. These are essentially subconsciously motivated actions of raw self-preservation and survival.
A Primary Function of Religious Community
This post was gleaned from the November-December 2010 edition of the UTNE Reader. It is couched in the language of Andrew Holecek’s Buddhist faith and deals with the practice of mindfulness. While I don't share his cosmology, Holecek captures one of the essential functions of all intentional religious communities better than anything I have come across in a long time. As with mindfulness, love and concern for universal well-being must be practiced and grown in us in the same way if it is to become an integral part of our being and actions.
Also, please note that Holecek identifies materialism as a religion that is practiced in and through our culture.
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Pray it Again... and Again...
by Andrew Holecek
Spiritual training involves scrubbing out deeply ingrained habits, which takes time and reiteration. It is like trying to flatten a scroll that has been coiled for thousands of years. One pass of our hands across the surface won’t do it. We have to press it out again and again.
Accomplishment in any discipline involves repetition. If we want to build muscles, we don’t lift ten thousand pounds at one time; we lift a few pounds thousands of times. Just as repetition is the source of necessary hardship for a piano student aspiring to be a concert pianist, it remains so for spiritual students aspiring to wake up. We hear the same teachings continuously, we practice the same mantras ceaselessly, we return to the meditation cushion, and then to our breath, incessantly. In the Tibetan tradition, one does one hundred thousand prostrations, one hundred thousand mantra recitations, one hundred thousand mandala offerings, one million guru yoga recitations—and that’s just for starters. These may seem like outrageous numbers, but they are nothing compared to the numbers we have already accumulated in our practice of materialism.
I have had selfish thoughts millions of times, bragged about myself, criticized others, gossiped, cheated, lied, and practiced self-centered actions millions upon millions of times. I have been mindless billions of time. I have forgotten the truth countless times. The numbers are astronomical, and so is the sphere of their influence.
Now when my teacher tells me I have to recite one million mantras that cultivate compassion, I know why. He is not torturing me, even though it sometimes feels that way. He is simply using the universal laws of reality, the same ones that I have unconsciously used to get me so stuck, to now consciously get me unstuck.
On the spiritual path we replace unconscious habits of confusion with conscious habits of wisdom. Instead of my unconscious practice of sloth, impatience, greed, anger, or any of the selfish habits that come so easily to me, I consciously practice discipline, patience, kindness, love, and many of the selfless habits that are still foreign to me. I am working to become familiar with good habits.
The spiritual path is hard because we are stopping old habits that come so easily and replacing them with difficult new ones. For example, mindlessness is natural to us. It is easy to space out and be distracted. Try to look at an object without wavering for a few seconds and you will see your talents for distraction. This is a bad habit, formulated over countless repetitions, and is a central unconscious practice on the worldly path. It is no longer even a practice, but a constant performance. We have accomplished mindlessness.
On the spiritual path we want to replace this bad habit with a good one. Even though mindfulness is a natural expression of the awakened mind, it has been buried under aeons of mindlessness, so we have to work to dig it out. The initial stage of mindfulness practice is called deliberate mindfulness because it takes effort to bring our wandering minds back. It is difficult only because it is unfamiliar.
One sign of progress on the path is that deliberate mindfulness evolves into spontaneous mindfulness. With enough practice, it becomes effortless. We have formed a good habit, even if we did not have a good time doing it.
The path is full of magic, but it is also full of mechanics. The skill of a concert pianist is magical, but this skill is the result of causes that are painfully mechanical. Similarly, the skill of effortless mindfulness is magical, but its causes are equally mechanical. There is nothing glamorous about the hard work of repetition. Understanding the mechanics of spiritual development dispels illusions about the ease of accomplishing it.
Science speaks about phase transformations, or punctuated equilibrium. A common example is the manner in which water comes to a boil. Put a pot of water on the stove, turn on the heat, and wait. Depending on the intensity of the heat and the temperature and volume of the water, it will boil slowly or quickly, but either way there is a period when nothing seems to be happening. All the energy is going into the water with no obvious result. The phase transformation from water into steam takes time.
Similarly, when we engage in spiritual practice, we have placed ourselves on the stove and turned on the heat. If our practice is halfhearted, then it takes time for that low temperature to transform us. If we practice wholeheartedly, the higher temperature brings us more rapidly to a boil. Either way there is a period when nothing seems to be happening. Lots of energy is going into our practice, but nothing is cooking.
As long-term practitioners reflect over years of practice, they discover they are starting to get warm. The changes come slowly because the water that is being heated is so cold, and the heart of our practice is usually tepid. But sooner or later we come to a boil. After years of practice we “suddenly” transform from an uptight, aloof person into an open, loving one; from a confused sentient being into an awakened one.
Lasting spiritual changes arise from simply being present, again and again. Religion means to link (ligio) back (re). Linking back on the spiritual path takes place every time we return to our breath, our body, our mantra, or the present moment. With each return we are taking a small step toward enlightenment because being fully present is a fundamental expression of enlightenment.
Andrew Holecek is a Tibetan Buddhist who serves on the adjunct faculty of Naropa University. This excerpt is from his 2009 book, "The Power and the Pain: Transforming Spiritual Hardship into Joy", in the Autumn 2010 issue of Light of Consciousness. www.light-of-consciousness.org
Religion - Keep Your Eye on the Pea
By Bill Papineau
The word “religion” is read, heard or said all the time in our culture. But despite the frequency of its use, very few people go to the trouble of explaining what they mean by it. The late writer and pundit Christopher Hitchens once said, “Religion poisons everything”. He viewed religion as a toxic substance. Does that make people who study religion toxicologists? Christian writers sometimes say that our present society is sick because we don’t have enough religion. Are they talking about the same thing as is Hitchens? Unless their intent is to prescribe chemotherapy for our culture, I don’t think they are.
Frankly, although I was ordained and served 14 years as an Episcopal priest, I have never liked the word very much. It has always held the musty damp odor of close-mindedness and rigid belief for me. But with the evolution of my own thinking has come the realization that this is more the result of context than the word itself; how the word is used and who is using it. The meaning of the word has evolved in context along with everything else in our world.
First used in the Latin of the Middle Ages, the word represented being bound to an order and discipline of an office in the Church hierarchy. It was applied to clergy and the members of church societies who took vows to live under the authority of Church leaders and in agreement with ecclesial vision and rules. Persons who were under such vows were called “religious”. It is important to point out that lay people were not “religious”. The term applied only to those who had some sort of vocation in the Church itself and did not refer to holding belief in God per se; that was assumed. Being religious had nothing to do with belief in a heavenly deity. Pretty much everyone in the pre-Copernican world believed in deities of one sort or another.
Over time, influenced by the many social and intellectual developments in human history such as Copernicus’ discoveries, the Renaissance, the Reformation, and the movements they inspired, the word religious came to mean holding belief in the Christian faith itself. Its use evolved to denote one who espoused the Judeo-Christian faith as opposed to holding the newly plausible idea that there is no God. In time, it further evolved to include people who affirmed the deistic beliefs of cultures outside the Western world, so that one could be called religious if he or she espoused any belief in supernatural or transcendent entities. What began as a term for people under vocational vows in the Christian Church, “religious” became a term for anyone who held belief in any form of faith in a divinity. “Religion” went from referring to a degree of commitment to the Christian Church to a collective term for any deistic belief system. This is how the word has been understood by most people for the past century or so. For theologians, however, the evolution of its meaning has continued.
At this point, I need to say a bit about theology. In its most academic sense (and as I profess it) theology is the objective study of human beings in relationship to their gods in the light of all other areas of human knowledge. As discussed above, for a long time in human intellectual evolution, the literal existence of God or gods was assumed and theologians worked under this same assumption. In the past several hundred years, we have gained vast information about human beings and our world. This information has helped theologians achieve an objective intellectual distance from which to examine the gods. The God of Christianity, once assumed to be unknowable, all-knowing and singular has been revealed to be a human construct (whether or not he actually exists) and as such has been forced to share his universe with the gods of other cultures. Now, more recently, theologians are making us aware that these gods (who have traditionally been understood as beings of some sort) are being joined by often even more significant gods who are not beings at all but who serve the same purpose of providing essential meaning for the lives of their adherents. These gods are not new in human experience. They have been with us in some form from the beginning of human culture. What is new is our recognition of their significance and the way they function in human reality. I call them the “Ism” gods; nationalism, capitalism, communism, militarism, racism, et al. It turns out that theology isn’t so much about gods as it is about us.
I’m sure it sounds very strange to put something like nationalism or patriotism on the same plane with the Christian god, but when viewed functionally, it is easy to see their power. People believe in a nation. They have faith in the myths, history and writings of the nation. They are moved to tears and inspired to action by its traditions, music and holiday rituals. They find reason to live in the national history, purpose and mission. They are willing to sacrifice and even die for the national interest. For many people, the nation is a god and one more important than the god they claim to worship on Sunday. This is evidenced by the fact that what the Sunday god wants is routinely dismissed for what the nation god wants. Nationalism is very much a religion.
OK, perhaps that was a little sneaky, but if I accomplished what I set out to do, the problem with the way “religion” is used today should be apparent. It is being used in a way that doesn’t reflect what we know about human beings and the way they make meaning. Human beings need to make meaning in order to exist. Whatever form that meaning takes, it can be said to be a god and there are those who are religious about it. When we hold a god in common with one or more others, it is a religion. Understood in this way, there is no religious versus secular dichotomy. We all invest trust in a god or gods and find significance and meaning from the relationship. We all share one or more of these meaning sources with others; we are all religious.
I'm very curious as to what poison or poisons Christopher Hitchens savored.