PARADOX: WALKING A FINE LINE

How do we make sense of the need to be at peace or rest and the seemingly opposite desire to be on a continuous quest for new horizons?  Some people settle for a simplified either/or answer to this tension, e.g.  defining people as either “pioneers” or “settlers.”   A fairly recent development approaches this issue by using an idea known as Dialectical Wisdom (not to be confused with the Dialectical Materialism of Marx and Engels).  The leaders in this concept are a diverse group of scholars attempting to integrate the fields of psychology and theology.  A helpful starting place comes from a book I highly recommend by F. LeRon Shults and Steven J. Sandage titled Transforming Spirituality: Integrating Theology and Psychology.  The brief comments that follow are indebted to these authors.

Human beings possess a need for both structure and change.  While some may find themselves predisposed to emphasize one side or the other, the reality for most is the dilemma of learning to live simultaneously with both sides of this tension.  A key part of the dialectical construct is the understanding that growth in wisdom entails “transcending polarities and appreciating paradoxical truths.”  An example drawn from scripture is Christ’s statement that saving one’s life will result in losing it.  The amazing idea resulting from embracing this paradox is that transformation takes place in the individual willing to live in both places.

To flesh out this concept Shults and Sandage draw a correlation between what they label spiritual dwelling and spiritual seeking.  In a brilliant integrative move they then write of the psychological dynamics of attachment and differentiation.  One conclusion they draw is that “Optimal spiritual maturity is characterized by a secure style of spiritual and interpersonal attachment and high levels of differentiation of self.”  In other words, walking in both sides of this dialectical tension sets up intrapersonal and interpersonal opportunities that are conducive to transformation and developmental growth.

I grew up in an either-or/right-wrong atmosphere, both in my family of origin and in my faith.  For years I struggled to get things right, to be on the "right side" in dealing with life's normal struggles.  About twelve years ago I begin to explore non-duality.  Of course, that immediately put me into the world of paradox.  The more I attempted to flesh out this concept, the more freedom I experienced.  The need to assess blame disappeared.  I also noticed a lifting of the burden of always having to be right and the resulting self-righteousness that came with it.  It's not that I no longer struggle with arrogance and judgmentalism, but a new reality is that I am more quickly aware when I do go there.  Life now feels more like an invitation and less like an examination.  Spiritual dwelling and and spiritual seeking are no longer opposites but run parallel.  There is a glorious interplay between the two.  Many years ago in Switzerland I sat at the feet of Dr. Francis Schaeffer and heard him say, "Parallel lines meet in infinity."  I think I finally agree with him.

FLYING

                                             He who binds to himself a Joy
                                             Doth the winged life destroy;
                                             But he who kisses the Joy as it flies
                                             Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.  

                                                                                           William Blake        

Mystery is different than confusion or ignorance.  People tend to battle confusion and uncertainty--their own and that of others--with a nagging desire for absolute certainty and control...the twin enemies of mystery.  Since the beginning of the Enlightenment and up to this moment, religion and science have bravely attempted to supply formulae of knowledge that produce certainty.  In our own time the number of books that include “How to” in their titles affirm our preoccupation with solving problems by finding the Golden Key, Rule, Principle or Law that will fling us onto the shores of a predictable paradise.

Along with certainty, the idea of safety is widely promulgated.  Our own government has promised peace through strength, leaving one with the impression that only the strong have access to peace, and only the powerful are safe.  To be sure, the desire to feel safe in a relationship is appropriate, even a requirement, if mutuality is to take place.  When it comes to the larger existential questions, however, the obsession with safety inhibits exploration, curiosity, and growth.

A favorite poem of mine by one of the greatest poets of the 20th Century, the late Denise Levertov (she died in Seattle in 1997) gives fearless voice to the quest for existential freedom.


The Blind Man’s House at the Edge of the Cliff   

At the jutting rim of the land he lives,
but not from ignorance,
not from despair.
He knows that one extra step from his seaward
wide-open doors would be
a step into salt air,
and he has no longing to shatter himself
far below, where the breakers
grind granite to sand.
No, he has chosen a life
pitched at the brink, a nest on the swaying
tip of a branch, for good reason: 

dazzling within his darkness
is the elusive deep horizon.  Here
nothing intrudes, palpable shade,
between his eager inward gaze
and the vast enigma.
If he could fly he would drift forever
into that veil, soft and receding. 

He knows that if he could see
he would be no wiser.
High on the windy cliff he breathes
face to face with desire.

The longing for freedom is akin to learning to fly in this sense: it always requires letting go of something; a cherished notion, a dogmatic assertion, or possibly a dysfunctional but habitual way of facing life.  Both theology and psychology refer to this as surrender. In his book Will and Spirit, Gerald May states "We may enter psychotherapy or growth groups in order to 'find ourselves,' only to discover that we have really deepened our questions.  Though we love those precious moments when we are awed by the wondrous, endless truth of life, we may also find ourselves terrified because those very moments rob us of our solid images of who we are." Indeed, we may feel unsafe and uncertain upon entering the turbulence of not knowing-with-certainty because self-surrender appears to be another form of death.  Facing the winds of uncertainty, therefore, requires courageous faith.  Faith by definition is more about not knowing than knowing. The blind man at the edge of the cliff might appear as a fool, but perhaps his faith provides him with a knowing-beyond-knowledge because he dared to face into the wind and breathe the rarefied air of the wise.

COMPULSIONS & ATTACHMENTS ARE NOT DESIRES

The word attachment is found often in the writings of the classic Christian mystics and particularly in the work of St. John of the Cross.  It originally meant “nailed to” and connotes the idea of habituation.  The late psychiatrist/spiritual director Gerald May states that attachment is the spiritual term for the psychological process of conditioning.  “Attachment nails the energy of our passion to someone or something, producing a state of addiction.  Once addiction takes hold, the loved one becomes an object to which we are bound.  The object of addiction may be anything: a person, a place, a substance, a behavior, a belief.  We come to expect gratification from this object and to want more and more of it.  Sooner or later we realize that we have not only fallen for this thing, we are in bondage to it.”    What may have started as a legitimate (or illegitimate) attraction can easily evolve into a compulsion.  At this point the ability to choose is greatly lessened and becomes subservient to the object of attraction.  Compulsions are destructive in that they erode personal freedom.  “We cling to things, people, beliefs, and behaviors not because we love them, but because we are terrified of losing them...We want to be free, compassionate, and happy, but in the face of our attachments we are clinging, grasping, and fearfully self-absorbed.” 

Underlying attachments and compulsions, however, is a desire to belong and have meaning; to know that somewhere in the universe we are loved unconditionally.  We want to know our true identity and comprehend our place in the human family.  In our restless quest to find this place of comfort we easily fall prey to shallow satisfactions and distractions.  Longings often deteriorate into crude, thoughtless diversions, and in short, take on the power of idolatry.

Some would say that the way to deal with attachments is to detach or simply cut off the attachment.  The Christian form of this is “Just repent!”  In extreme, it often took the form of asceticism.  The problem is that desires fought against tend to develop a life of their own and, rather than liberating the soul, end up dominating one’s time and attention.  The notion that we can be free from desire makes no more sense than breathing without oxygen.  Orthodox Christianity has always taught that our ultimate desire is a reflection of our search for God. Misguided desire is a possibility only because healthy desire is also a possibility.   To be without desire is to be dead.  Our longing for is basically a longing for life and love…and God. The road to maturity is paved with healthy desire, without which we will default to unhealthy addictions and attachments.

THRESHOLDS

In 1909 a new word was coined—liminal.  It derives from the Latin līmen and means threshold.  Through the ideas of British anthropologist Victor Turner in the late 60’s, the concept began to spread into sociological and psychological literature.  More recently, the concept has been showing up in a number of contemporary Christian publications.

Originally, the term meant the space under a door between two rooms, i.e. a passageway.  It began its popular usage as a description of initiation rites found in many cultures in regard to the journey taken by children as they enter the adult world.  The liminal space or passage was the transition time between childhood and adulthood.  In this sense, liminality embodies the idea that Jungian psychologists  called individuation.  It is a place of ambiguity; a leaving of what has been and a moving toward what might be.  A favorite theologian of mine, Walter Brueggemann, applies a similar concept when he speaks of the movement of individuals and groups in exodus.  Of necessity, it seems, they will move from orientation to disorientation to reorientation.  In this motif, disorientation is a liminal space and the road to maturity does not allow the false luxuries of avoidance or denial.

As you look back over the path of your life, what are the liminal spaces you have experienced?  In the transition between different stages of your life did you attempt to skip the discomfort that liminality often brings?  What if, rather than running from the discomfort of ambiguity, you instead experience it to the fullest and see it as a stepping stone to new levels of authenticity and maturity?

For the past dozen years of my own life I have repeatedly found encouragement in the following poem written by Kathy Galloway.  Rev. Galloway, in addition to being a poet, is a leader in the Church of Scotland.  Her poem, Borderlands, resonates with the truth of limimality and bids me to continue entering that place.

there is a place

beyond the border

where love grows

and where peace

is not the frozen silence . . .

to get to that place you have to

go or be pushed out

beyond the borders,

to where it is lonely, fearful,

threatening, unknown.

only after you have wandered

for a long time in the dark

do you begin to bump into others

also branded, exiled,

border crossers,

and find you walk on

common ground.

it is not an easy place to be,

this place beyond the borders.

but it is a good place to be.

Is liminality a place of comfort?  Rarely.  Are you alone when in a liminal place?  Probably not.  Are you ready to take the plunge?  If so, welcome...and walk on.

READ THIS BOOK

Occasionally I will be recommending books that have impacted me deeply.  A Gentler God: Breaking Free of the Almighty in the company of the human Jesus by Doug Frank is a very recent book that I could not put down.  For those of you not familiar with Frank, he is a writer/thinker/history professor who lives in the mountains outside Ashland, Oregon, helping college students find their voices.  I “found” him by reading his 30-page paper The Ethic of the Real about 10 years ago.  It made a great impact upon me.  He has written one other book, also deeply insightful—Less Than Conquerors: The Evangelical Quest for Power in the Early Twentieth Century.  From my reading, Frank seems to be a combination philosopher-sage-theologian-provocateur… and a very good writer.

A Gentler God is written in two parts.  The first half describes the type of god that was imposed upon those of us who have come from an evangelical background.  Frank describes his own upbringing (and mine!) in a direct but gentle way.  It is not a harangue against something wrong as much as an honest appeal to our feelings of yearning and betrayal.  For me, it touched many internal places with which I still have a love-hate relationship.  Frank’s portrayal of the bright, positive, good-news god presented in tandem with the punitive, wrathful, left-behind god of my childhood awakened deep memories of trying to talk myself into loving a god who proved impossible to please.   The second half of the book presents a deeply humane God in Christ who often pops up in unexpected places; a God who refuses simplistic explanations and thwarts systematic definitions.  To find this God, Frank suggests we follow the path to wholeness that is only found in The Freedom to be a Mess (the title of chapter 11).

In my opinion, this book is a forthright and compelling attempt to put words to those intuitions we’ve all had that something is not right.  I’m sure not everyone will agree with all his analysis and provocative suggestions, but my guess is that it will provide fuel for thoughtful reflection.

Enough said.  I hope you order and read it to the end!  You can order it at Amazon or from Frank directly at dougfrankbooks.com.  The cost is $25.