Bedrock

Celebrating twenty-five years of a critically acclaimed cult classic, New York Times movie critic Alissa Wilkinson’s “Here’s Why ‘The Matrix’ Is More Relevant Than Ever”i helped me reframe political polarization and family infighting in the Trump era.

My twin brother, Brad, and I were of the same mind earlier in life. We were both in divinity school when “The Matrix” came out, thinking alike and voting alike. Twenty-five years before that, as monozygotic twins, for two weeks in utero we shared the exact same biological identity, a single fertilized egg, one human cell.

Now we no longer seem to share the same reality. For eight years we have debated each other over politics, philosophy, history, theology, and biblical interpretation. Deep scrutiny of our differences throughout the Trump era has exposed what cannot be denied: the guiding narrative of Christianity for us now appears to have two different meanings.

Wilkinson normalized this experience for me in the last line of her review: “...great art never has one fixed meaning, and because of that, it’s always a little dangerous.”ii She had referred to the alt-right's use of the red-pill trope to meme their socio-political vision of reality, a national identity based on race.iii She had also referred to other groups finding meaning in the film, including transgender people who take obvious nods from lines in the movie “about Neo’s very existence inside a literal binary system.”iv Whether the red pill awakens you to deep state control, gender binary, tech-saturated existence, woke corporate capitalism, or the patriarchy, Wilkinson says the identity of the false reality system, the matrix as one sees it, “depends, ironically enough, upon which system you’re most interested in dismantling.”v

According to this insight, two meaning systems in the same country, culture, church, or family see each other as a false meaning system to be dismantled. In such a scenario both factions forget that the common ground of a common identity is the only foundation for truth. Wilkinson notes an essential idea articulated by philosopher Jean Baudrillard upon whose thought "The Matrix” is based: “[I]t does no good to point out ‘the truth’ from within a system that denies or suppresses reality. In those circumstances, your only tool to combat oppression is violence. You can only fight nihilism with nihilism.”vi Human freedom and difference implicitly subject us to futility and violence. Whenever art, or human meaning, is interpreted in a new way, the natural response to the split, like a newly divided zygote, is that the two cells define themselves in violent opposition to one another.

Wilkinson also notes that Baudrillard did not like "The Matrix” as it did not accurately represent his philosophical use for the concept of simulation.vii The writers of “The Matrix” themselves also parted ways with Baudrillard's nihilism in their film script by allowing the power of love to have a reality-shaping role.viii “The Matrix” is latent with Christian imagery and symbolism and is therefore itself a new interpretation of an old meaning system, a modern narrative for an ancient faith.

Consistent with Baudrillard’s philosophy and Wilkinson’s point that the matrix “you see depends... upon which system you’re most interested in dismantling”ix is the observation that any new depiction of Christian meaning naturally opposes the older depiction, which counter-opposes the new, and both systems then lapse into twin forms of nihilism locked in opposition. Wilkinson layers in the interesting twist that during the past twenty-five years both writer-directors of the film, born biological brothers, surnamed Wachowski, have each come out as transgender women. One of the Wachowski sisters, Lilly, said, “[W]hile the ideas of identity and transformation are critical components in our work, the bedrock that all ideas rest upon is love.”x

This is certainly a Christian insight, but whenever we treat love as a categorical imperative, a universal ethic, or a fixed moral law, its unique power dissipates and leaves us with only a free-floating idea and not bedrock. There is no reason to assume that Lilly Wachowski or her sister, Lana, would disagree with the previous statement, but even alt-right nationalists could claim love as the bedrock of all ideas. Christian love is not an emotion, motive, intention, principle, nature, essence, ethic, law, abstraction, or absolute. Love, the bedrock of reality, much more than the summation of divine or human law, is always modeled and never coded.

Baudrillard is right: each system that denies or suppresses reality is simply its own matrix.xi Where love is merely the higher law of Christian humanism coded into a matrix, choosing that new “reality” over the old simulation is “to reject one narrative and adopt another.”xii As Wilkinson says, “The red-pilled person is just accepting a new matrix.”xiii

Life imitates art, so while reading the last line of Wilkinson’s review, (“...great art never has one fixed meaning, and because of that, it’s always a little dangerous.”xiv) something clicked. I realized that twin brothers who take up Christianity believing its meaning is fixed will proceed to beat each other senseless trying to convince each other about what is true. Such violence can be avoided in one of two ways: 1) by both twins accepting the imposition of an arbitrating authority over the shared original (or other agreed upon) fixed meaning system, or 2) by at least one of the twins exercising the power to resist seeing Christianity as a fixed meaning system. The mode of operating to be resisted here, which is operating according to the letter of the law, includes making clear distinctions, identifying the self and the other according to those distinctions, and then defending the self, attacking the other, or both.

An alternative mode of operating, which is operating according to the spirit of the law, circumvents violence by exercising the power to operate directly according to love, not making distinctions and divisions by which to identify the self and the other. “Walking according to the spirit”xv is a Christ-like mode of unity, resonance, and communion with God and the world. It is an experiential knowledge that grounds us, defines us, and identifies us, both the person and the newly formed human community. This tacit, embodied, and personal knowledge of God is an experience that cannot be transmitted through a fixed meaning system, nor can it be used to dominate the will of the other without being corrupted. The spirit of the law is therefore elusive to all systems and surprisingly diverse in both insight and application. Words, even creeds, cannot contain it. Ideas rest upon it and take flight. Systems, institutions, and “Christian” empires built by human hands remain external to it, easily ossify, and eventually fade away.

St Paul says that the (fixed) letter of the law kills while the spirit of the law (love) gives life. In Romans 2, in Romans 7, and in 2 Corinthians 3, he says:

“...he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is circumcision that which is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is that which is of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter...”xvi

“...now we have been released from the Law, having died to that by which we were bound, so that we serve in newness of the Spirit and not in oldness of the letter.”xvii

“[God] made us adequate as servants of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life...”xviii

The spirit is wholly other than the letter of the law. One is a shadow or copyxix, and the other is the real thing. The spirit of the firstborn divine-human person, as anticipated by ancient Israel, has written the law directly on our hearts.xx There is nothing inherently wrong with the letter of the law written in stone, just as there is nothing inherently wrong with any outward national, ethnic, gendered, social, or cultural identity written in flesh or ink. However, these things are free-floating identity markers and not bedrock. The shared, personal, experiential, and embodied knowledge of God written on our hearts is bedrock. The original model of love, Jesus of Nazareth, the Anointed One, his spirit alive within us, his body, the ecclesia, is bedrock. Twins and diverse cultures therefore need not fight over fixed meaning. Jesus taught his disciples another way based on the bedrock of a personal identity: “Who do you say that I am?”xxi

There is still time and opportunity to approach all personal and political differences in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness—in true unity and freedom—not leaning on our own understanding, distinctions, and naturally opposed external identities. The real world has always implicitly subjected us to violence, but real-world freedom and diversity no longer necessarily lead to violence. When we start with a common identity grounded in the spirit and not in the letter of the law, the thin layers of futility crumble to expose bedrock. On that foundation, the oneness of a single human cell is a oneness that pales in comparison to what twins may experience after seventy-five or a hundred years of living. The entire human race and cosmos united through the Spirit of Christ as one body with many members may take a little longer than that. Either way, eight years of futility are a blip on the screen.

i Alissa Wilkinson, “Here’s Why ‘The Matrix’ Is More Relevant Than Ever”, The New York Times, July 31, 2024. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/31/movies/the-matrix-ai-film.html

ii Wilkinson, last paragraph of article.

iii Wilkinson, third paragraph and fourth-from-last paragraph of article.

iv Wilkinson, fifteenth paragraph of article.

v Wilkinson, next-to-last paragraph of article.

vi Wilkinson, fourteenth paragraph of article.

vii Wilkinson, thirteenth paragraph of article.

viii Wilkinson, fourteenth paragraph of article.

ix Wilknson, the next-to-last paragraph of article.

x Wilkinson, fifteenth paragraph of article.

xi Wilkinson, fourteenth paragraph of article.

xii Wilkinson, third-and-fourth-from-last paragraphs of article.

xiii Wilkinson, third-from-last paragraph in article.

xiv Wilkinson, last paragraph of article.

xv Romans 8:4

xvi Romans 2:28-29

xvii Romans 7:6

xviii 2 Corinthians 3:6

xix Hebrews 8:5; 9:24; 10:1

xx Jeremiah 31:31-34; 2 Corinthians 3:4-6

xxi Matthew 16:15; Mark 8:29 

The Sound Track of Your Life

Not to be self indulgent. That is not the point. Quite the contrary, in fact. But what songs (or song writers) grab you and speak to you as if they were written (or often write), specifically, just for you?

We all have them. Some of us have more than others, I'm sure, but I am swimming in the joy of each one of mine as I listen. I tend to follow certain artists closely: e.g., Johnny Cash, Martin Sexton, David Wilcox, U2, Wilco, M Ward, Leonard Cohen, Sufjan Stevens, Andrew Bird, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan.

I see in more than one of these musical talents a spiritual self-awakening that is part of their process of creating music. It is clear in the work of several of these writers that listening to your own creative work played out over a lifetime, re-interpreting your own songs and letting them speak to you, and indeed, the song-writing process itself ...can put you in touch with a higher power.

M Ward sings on his newest album release, Hold Time:

"he put his name in my verses and his name in the hook, before I knew what I was cookin' it was already cooked, he's got a line in the water, he's a fisher of men... he put his name in my chorus and the dark before the dawn, so that in my time of weakness I'd remember its his song, he's got a line in the water, he's a fisher of men..." ("Fisher of Men")

And Bono still hasn't found what he's looking for as he screams on U2's latest release, No Line on the Horizon:

Let me in the sound/ Let me in the sound/ Let me in the sound, sound/ Let me in the sound, sound/ Let me in the sound... ("Get On Your Boots")

And in the song, "Breathe":

We are people borne of sound/ The songs are in our eyes/ Gonna wear them like a crown/ Walk out, into the sunburst street/ Sing your heart out, sing my heart out/ I've found grace inside a sound/ I've found grace , its all that I've found/ And I can breathe now...

I could go on, but I'll stop right there and just say that the creative process, living a life that is open to music seems beneficial to spiritual health. David Wilcox says that music is more than just sound,

"Who needs sound? We need music, and music is much bigger than that. We don't need sound; we need music, and music is timing with a capital-T. Music is hearing a song that sounds like your song, 'cause its just what you've been dreaming of, or thinking of, or praying for, and suddenly its speaking right to you..." (from the album, Live Songs and Stories)

Think about the songs that grab you deep inside. Make a list, and then think about why they grab you. What phrases and chords grip your heart? Try to "get inside the sound", and then listen for whatever/whomever may actually be meeting you there.

But don't get in a hurry. It may take a little while... and it may involve some writing and singing of your own!

...And remember, the sound track of your life is yours alone, but sharing it with others is the whole point of even laying down the tracks.

Desire

I see a possible new theme developing for Alternative.

I have been reading a book by Lorenzo Albacete called God at the Ritz. He is a Catholic priest who was once a physicist. He is a New York Times columnist and often speaks about about religion in the broadest possible ways, talking whimsically about religion, sex, politics, economics and science. Particularly, he speaks about desire, following your heart and your dreams, intentionally participating in the relentless human quest for fulfillment.

At first you may think he wants to say simply that our fulfillment comes from God, but he avoids simple platitudes in this book. Any way you approach it, though, his theme could fit nicely within our own elusive yet ubiquitous set of themes, within the emerging purpose of Alternative.

I do hope to strike up our regular meeting times again very soon. I look forward to catching up with some of you.

Mark Twain's Gospel

I have recently discovered the value and the joy of juxtaposing texts.

There are so many texts for us to choose from when we are seeking inspiration, education, transformation, companionship and guidance. Many of the texts we read for such purposes have already been chosen for us, whether they be found in the canon of western literature or some other time-honored category, such as the canon of eastern literature (surely such a thing exists).

Our chosen texts have been written, edited, compiled, published, copied, distributed, used and valued; sometimes they have also been translated, re-edited and redacted by subsequent generations. And they have been either formally or informally canonized, stamped as integral to the definitive makeup of a society, culture, religion or tradition. The Bible is the most prominent example of this.

This summer I volunteered to lead a Bible study for our church, a church which aspires greatly to engage the surrounding culture concerning matters of faith, spirituality and social justice. One of the reasons for this Bible study has been to invite others from the community (who may or may not be Christian) to be involved in meaningful open discussions about theological and spiritual issues.

I chose the Gospel of Mark as the focus of our study, because I had been wanting to read about and discuss with others the ministry and teachings of Jesus and what they could mean for those of us who are ambivalent about our faith identity. Then I thought that it may be fair also to let this study involve a text that would represent a more modern voice, critical of religion, and to juxtapose the two.

So, I picked Mark Twain's, No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger. It is set in 1490 in a small mountain village in Austria, cozy in the comforts of Christendom:

"Yes, Austria was far from the world, and asleep, and our village was in the middle of that sleep, being in the middle of Austria. It drowsed in peace in the deep privacy of a hilly and woodsy solitude where news from the world hardly ever came to disturb its dreams, and was infinitely content."

There is a castle near the village that houses a printing press, a master and several apprentices. The story is about a mysterious young man who comes up to the castle and tells them simply that his name is "Number 44, New Series 864,962". He is otherwise silent about his origins and is assumed perhaps to have formerly been a prisoner.

But the master lets "No. 44" stay anyway and work for his keep. Although he is not well-liked by the other men, he is befriended by August, the story's narrator and main character. August is intrigued by the mysterious stranger, who privately reveals himself to August to possess supernatural powers. No. 44 ends up discipling August and revealing to him the cosmic truth:

"It is true, that which I have revealed to you: there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a Dream, a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but You. And you are but a Thought wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"

By juxtaposing this overtly anti-religious Mark Twain story with the Gospel of Mark, we are asking ourselves: What place and value do these texts have in our lives? How are they similar? How are they different? They are both part of the canon of western literature; What does it mean for a text to be part of a canon? What claim do both of these texts make on us as westerners and how do they converge in our experience and self-understanding as westerners? What are the limitations of each? And in what sense are they both true?

Juxtaposing these texts has been a fruitful exercise, even if it is twice as much reading as usual. The two texts seem to neutralize each other and to allow a diverse group to seek genuinely together to be enlightened, changed, and enriched.

[Another experiment in juxtaposing texts has been tried in our church: Try reading Stephen Crane's, The Open Boat alongside this Rumi' poem.]

Epiphany

Wow. I went for a walk on the greenway this morning (Sunday), and (surprise!) it was by far the most fulfilling experience I've had since my last walk. Some friends and I have been discussing the question, "What is necessary and what is extraneous in life?" Taking walks in solitude: I think this is at least a clue toward what is necessary and what is extraneous.

My last 'walk' was on our winter solstice evening a couple of weeks ago. It was actually a gathering with a few people from church. We met at a more-or-less wooded retreat center in Hillsborough at 4:00 p.m. for a meditative evening of still and quiet as we waited for darkness to fall. It was an overcast, cold day, perfect for this sort of thing, and we began with about 30 minutes of prayer book and scripture readings. This part was not very meaningful to me at the time, I remember, and I almost wished that I'd just stayed at home.

But then after the readings we were dispersed and quiet, moving about the property, walking or sitting still, perhaps meditating on some poetry. I appreciated us doing this together as a group; we were intentionally alone, yet each along side the participating others. There was a nicely designed brick and lime-stony gravel labyrinth involved also. This all turned out to be just what I needed at the time, and, I dare say, it was necessary.

So, what is necessary in life?

What is extraneous seems easier to say. You can pretty much fill in the blank there. It seems true to me that withdrawing from all the extraneous things for quiet, contemplative moments like these can help one clue in, at least, to what is necessary. I was thinking about this question when I started my walk this morning and thought about the Pre-Socratics, mainly about Heraclitus and "flux". Then I started thinking about how important a context can be for making sense of anything, so I thought about Genesis and the Vedas and how important "story" is.

So..., is there any particular story that is important? At this point, I am going to say that I don't think so. However, I just mentioned two good ones to start with. Three, if you count the Pre-Socratics, backed as they were by Greek mythology. But then each story becomes so diverse and complex as you bring in their extended uses and their developments in history. Now, I think that diversity is a good thing for several reasons that we can talk about later, but it definitely presents us with our greatest challenge as human beings, globally and otherwise. And concerning this challenge, it seems particularly important for us today to recognize that our stories themselves are always changing, too.

(So, everything really is in flux, isn't it? Or, at least the extraneous things are. Maybe some things, like particular stories, at certain times are necessary but are ultimately extraneous. I don't know. Still, the question remains, What is ultimately necessary?)

And what is our story today? What is our context? What do we hold in common? And by "our" and "we", I could mean any "our" or "we": the world, a nation, a society, a religious or ideological group, a "community", a family, friends, sexual partners, even a single individual with multiple social identities. What holds us together in all the flux and diversity? And what is the "self" among all these relations? It seems that story and context is important for coming up with any real answers here.

But still the other question is primary. Regardless of story, context or identity, there seems to me be only one thing necessary. So, the question posed is a good one. I feel like I experienced the beginnings of an answer to it this morning on my walk. But I dare not try--alone, here and now--to sum it up for us all.

Darkness

Typically, this time of year includes well lit marketplaces, holiday lights, parties, and shining decorations. Therefore, it may easily evade us that our celebration occurs as we approach the winter solstice (this year on December 22), the longest and (conceivably) the darkest night of the year.

Acknowledging the darkness in the dead of winter can give deeper meaning to our fascination with light during the holiday season. This is the purpose for Advent in the Christian calendar. Advent is a time for intentional stillness and quiet reflection during this dark season; it is an annual time for making ready, preparing ourselves, waiting quietly, expecting the Christ, the hope of new life, the light of the world.

It is important to remember that the darkness always comes first. Before God said "Let there be light", the earth was formless and void. In traditions where collective memories don't begin with Genesis, the same is also true. "Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning", says a Creation Hymn in the Rig Veda. Remembering our place in relation to this primal darkness can help better align our perspectives to some ancient, primordial, universal wisdom.

Darkness is often associated in the West with evil, suffering, and death; it is the shadow of goodness. Yet this is only one layer of the archetype. The more primal sense of darkness, East and West, designates the original mysterious nothingness from which life and being emerge. It is the substratum of all that is. Darkness is to light what silence is to sound: the eternal precedent. According to ancient and medieval mystics, God is darkness, unknowable, mysterious. Currently, of course, science is telling us similar things about the universe itself (e.g., "dark matter"). There is much that is unknown to us. Reality is dark and mysterious.

What we may describe in our lives as 'darkness' often involves loss, confusion or hopelessness. Finding ourselves repeating the same old relationship patterns that we thought we had left behind in our families of origin; waking up lonely and depressed, unable to envision as we once did ever truly being able to connect with another person, even with our children or a spouse; realizing everything we must give up and how hard we must work just to maintain our projected course toward the good life; questioning our systems of meaning; enduring physical or emotional suffering. When these moments come, there is darkness. Although some of us may revel in them somewhat (for the sake of art, authenticity, or our sincerely Nietzschean sensibilities), most of us want a little bit of light during these times, a way forward, some hope, a renewed vision for life and wellness in our future.

So, what is involved in this recurring process of moving from darkness to light? What is this darkness, exactly? How do we come to terms with it? Where does light come from? Where does our hope come from? What practices and what imagery (what traditions and what beliefs) might help us better expect light to emerge on our horizons in our darkest moments?

These are the questions we are here to ask each other in Alternative. Our best answers will involve telling each other our own stories, telling each other about our own experiences of darkness, telling each other where our hope comes from. Maybe in this process we can help each other to appreciate the darkness in life while also seeing that in our common experience as humans, while darkness is our cosmic substratum, the recurrence of light is just as real. If we pay attention and look around for it a bit during this holiday season, we are likely to see it.

Invitation and Response

If at any point in our lives we begin to interpret the pages of our own memory and experience; and if reflecting upon those pages presents the opportunity for us to make changes in ourselves (or to hope for change or even to open ourselves up to new possibilities in life); then our responses in such moments are worth anticipating, thinking about, and preparing ourselves for.

But what, exactly, are we responding to in such moments as these? Well, most of us already have our own ideas about that. We may be part of a tradition that provides us with an answer to that question, or perhaps we are reasonably certain that there is no source other than our own intuitions. Although we may differ widely concerning the source of the invitation, we each have the basic opportunity to respond to our own lives, to respond to each other, to respond to our own given set of circumstances in this great, mysterious, and sometimes seemingly indifferent universe.

Anticipating these moments of invitation and response, being aware of the possibilities they hold for character development... This is the process of spiritual formation.

Spirituality means different things to different people, of course, but we can all agree that the kind of development described above is something that is important for each of us, whether we interpret the source of the invitation as human intuition or divine being. Either way it involves something that we may call spirit.

The dictionary here at my elbow defines spirit eight ways:

1. the inspiring principle or dominant influence
2. soul
3. the nature of a person; disposition; attitude
4. (pl.) vivacity; optimism
5. (cap.) in the Trinity, the Holy Spirit
6. the essence or real meaning
7. a supernatural being; an angel; a fairy; a ghost
8. a chemical distillation; (pl.) strong distilled alcoholic liquor

If what we are about in Alternative is spiritual formation, then any of these definitions could enlighten the intentions of our group, even the eighth (when used in moderation).

When we disagree on significant things, it won't matter so much as long as we remember that we come together for a more immediately significant purpose: to learn to listen for life's invitations and to train ourselves to respond to them in authenticity, creativity, and faithfulness.

This takes practice. It requires skills that must themselves be developed over time, and it often requires the encouragement and support of other people. So, intentionally training ourselves to listen is the first step in learning to live well. Subsequent efforts involve many different kinds of practices which, hopefully, we will discover and employ as we continually come together as a group.

----------------
Post Script: For some, this may prompt an important question: Alternative claims to be a Christian group; doesn't such a broad definition of spiritual formation preclude its Christian identity?

Not necessarily. As Christians seeking to be faithful to that identity, we are claiming a broad solidarity with people of various perspectives. This is not based on a simple relativism but on the example of Jesus himself, who associated with those outside of the religious establishment of his day. Jesus' message has traditionally been intended for such people, for the Jew and the Gentile alike (Romans, chapter ii). Jesus invited unlikely people into a new kind of community together, a new way of life. In that tradition, living into this new community is what we are to be about as followers of Jesus. This will potentially shape the identity of everyone involved, whether Jew or Gentile, Christian or not.

Although our perspectives may differ widely within Alternative, at least we will be articulating them in a civilized and congenial context, with the common goal of responding to the invitation of life. By this we might just be changed, all of us, as we encounter others whose perspectives may challenge our narrow assumptions and possibly even expand our horizons of meaning.

Some Thought for Food

What would be involved in an ongoing discussion about food in our group? How would an evaluation of food practices in 21st century America relate to spiritual formation? In Alternative, we began to explore these questions in a recent discussion about food.

"You are what you eat," the old saying goes. Human beings are embodied beings who depend on the earth for food, and we are connected to our environment and to each other through our food. So, with food as the subject of a discussion, there are many potential themes to explore. Our group, however, on this occasion at least, seemed to have three major (overlapping) categories of concern:

1. Mindfulness and Spirituality: Sharing food, preparing it for each other in community, being thankful, being mindful of the process by which our food comes to us, being mindful of how food connects us to the earth and to each other; these intentional practices give food a central place in one's daily attentiveness to spiritual well-being.

2. Environment, Sustainability and Health: Organic food is highly valued these days, and it is also becoming a priority for some not to eat much processed food. This means eating more local food raised on smaller farms. This alternative is good for many reasons. Local food is fresher than food that has been transported, processed and packaged, and local producers are more accountable for their farming practices. Sustainable farming practices offer many long-term health benefits for us and our environment, and food that is whole and not processed generally has greater nutritional value. Plus, buying food from local sources strengthens local economies.

Eating local food as much as possible is certainly a challenging aspiration for most Americans, but small steps (like planting our own tomatoes, taking time to prepare our own food and supporting local farms that we can visit) can help to raise our awareness of the complexity and beauty of our relationship to the earth's soil, air, water, plants and animals. Food practices for our health and well-being involve ways of life that are becoming increasingly more important for us to adopt.

3. Economic Justice: Local food is usually not as cheap as food that is shipped from large scale farms. But in a sense, there is really no such thing as "cheap food". The hidden costs of what we consider to be cheap food will eventually be paid by the environment and future generations. Cheap meat, cheap dairy and cheap eggs, for example, are most often made possible by systems that involve poor living conditions for animals, hormones, antibiotics, irradiation, and concentrated animal waste that contributes to stream pollution.

Unfortunately, it is the world's poorest people, those deprived of the best health care, who are most immediately affected by such things, whether they be workers, land dwellers or consumers. The poor are also less likely to pay more for their food simply to support local farms and sustainable farming practices. Conserving the environment is important for those of us who can afford to spend the extra money, but we must also support ways to make local, organic food more affordable for everyone. An important issue for us in discussing food, therefore, is economic justice: not only feeding the poor but also advocating for local, state and national economic reform.

Now, lest we seem to be getting too political... We all share the burden of addressing the needs that we perceive to be present. This usually begins with some kind of criticism of the way things are, regardless of our perspective. But if we begin by continually giving thanks for our food and by being ever mindful of its source, then we may also begin addressing the deepest needs of our own households, communities and our world, being responsible, authentic and creative in our food practices, discussing our experiences and thoughts with others as we share our homes and our meals together. Bon Appetit!

For further reading on this topic, see Wendell Berry's essay, "The Pleasure of Eating" and Michael Pollan's "No Bar Code".

Spirituality and Creativity

Spirituality has at least as many meanings as there are people to define it. Because we are unique, each one of us has his or her own way of being spiritual. However, there is at least one thing basic to spirituality that is worth naming: Spirituality involves creative and imaginative ways of living our everyday lives.

One's spirituality may be practiced in connection with a community or it may be done in solitude; it may be informed by religion or not; it may involve intentional and routine practices or it may be sporadic. But certainly, one vital aspect of any spiritual way of life is creativity.

This is true when we are religious and routine, because without creativity and imagination our spiritual practices can quickly become empty rituals. To be genuinely spiritual, our ways and our thoughts must constantly be refreshed by a creative awareness of our symbols of meaning, whatever they may be.

This is also true when we are spontaneous and unstructured. Even though one's spirituality may seem to arise naturally from daily life, the kind of acts invloved in personal reflection and tuning in to our sources of inspiration must be done with creative intention. In fact, for most people some amount of creativity is needed just to make the time in our busy schedules for the things that refresh and re-orient us, such as hiking or knitting.

If, by exercising spirituality, we are attempting to be conscious of important things in life, then exercising creativity and the imagination is an integral part of that effort. Otherwise, we remain perpetually busy and frantic or are simply droned by our routine into a deep, deep, deep sleep, only to be awakened on occasion by the nurse who brings our pills. Creative efforts, whatever form they may take, open us up in a natural way to the possibility of spiritual vivacity.

Julia Cameron's book, The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, is a good resource for anyone aspiring to a creative and spiritual way of life. She suggests making time and space for creativity by establishing practices, such as beginning each day with a few pages of stream-of-consciousness writing and setting weekly dates with yourself alone to do something that you love to do. Her book is primarily for artists, but she says that her practices are useful for anyone who is hoping to live more creatively, whether or not artistic expression is the ultimate goal.

But perhaps some kind of creative expression is at least a part of the ultimate goal for those of us who are interested in community. Not that we should all be artists, but finding fresh ways to express ourselves and to tell our own stories is a good way for us to connect with one other.

Spirituality involves creative and imaginative ways of living everyday life; and it involves creative and imaginative ways of telling our stories. Let us encourage in each other the constant recovery of our creativity as a palliative to the adverse effects of busy lives and our routined ways of being in the world.

Mindfulness

The word mindfulness has recently gained my attention. Its original use describes a type of Buddhist meditation in which one focuses intentionally on each breath coming and going from the body. Mindfulness-of-breathing meditation cultivates one's ability to experience more fully, at any time, whatever is happening at the present moment.

Adaptations of mindfulness meditation have become useful in the fields of integrative medicine and mental health (for stress reduction, pain management and cognitive therapy), and it is being used as a model in other fields such as educational theory.

In light of the previous post, which was about prayer, the basic idea of mindfulness also intersects deeply with our interests in Alternative concerning an alternative approach to Christian spirituality.

Jon Kabat-Zinn of the University of Massachusetts Medical School says, "Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally. This kind of awareness nurtures greater awareness, clarity, and acceptance of present-moment reality." As a spiritual formation and fellowship group, a major purpose of Alternative is to develop this kind of awareness in each other and in ourselves.

My hope is that together we can find ways of cultivating the habit of being mindful of our lives, our contingecy, our everyday experiences and the presence of others with us in the world.

Prayer: Redefined

Recently our group met to discuss the possibility of re-interpreting the idea and the practice of prayer for those of us who might have a bit of an agnostic streak... and what forms and conceptions of Christian prayer historically have set precedent for this. To begin our discussion I read aloud a poem by Edward Hirsch:

Wild Gratitude

Tonight when I knelt down next to our cat, Zooey,
And put my fingers into her clean cat's mouth,
And rubbed her swollen belly that will never know kittens,
And watched her wriggle onto her side, pawing the air,
And listened to her solemn little squeals of delight,
I was thinking about the poet, Christopher Smart,
Who wanted to kneel down and pray without ceasing
In every one of the splintered London streets,

And was locked away in the madhouse at St. Luke's,
With his sad religious mania, and his wild gratitude,
And his grave prayers for the other lunatics,
And his great love for his speckled cat, Jeoffry.
All day today—August 13, 1983—I remembered how
Christopher Smart blessed this same day in August, 1759,
For its calm bravery and ordinary good conscience.

This was the day that he blessed the Postmaster General
"And all conveyancers of letters" for their warm humanity,
And the gardeners for their private benevolence
And intricate knowledge of the language of flowers,
And the milkmen for their universal human kindness.
This morning I understood that he loved to hear—
As I have heard—the soft clink of milk bottles
On the rickety stairs in the early morning,

And how terrible it must have seemed
When even this small pleasure was denied him.
But it wasn't until tonight when I knelt down
And slipped my hand into Zooey's waggling mouth
That I remembered how he'd called Jeoffry "the servant
Of the Living God duly and daily serving Him,"
And for the first time understood what it meant.
Because it wasn't until I saw my own cat

Whine and roll over on her fluffy back
That I realized how gratefully he had watched
Jeoffry fetch and carry his wooden cork
Across the grass in the wet garden, patiently
Jumping over a high stick, calmly sharpening
His claws on the woodpile, rubbing his nose
Against the nose of another cat, stretching, or
Slowly stalking his traditional enemy, the mouse,
A rodent, "a creature of great personal valour,"
And then dallying so much that his enemy escaped.

And only then did I understand
It is Jeoffry—and every creature like him—
Who can teach us how to praise—purring
In their own language,
Wreathing themselves in the living fire.

Earlier in the week my one-year-old son, Ezra, and I went for a walk in the woods. I was watching Ezra explore and discover sticks and leaves and trees and rocks, and I was moved by the way he seemed to give attention to the smallest details of such things. I was reminded by watching him how good it can be to pay attention to small things. I am reminded of this, also, when I hear this poem.

Poets and artists do us service in this way: they use words and images to bring the details of what they have seen to our attention, reminding us of things we often overlook, pointing us toward realities that are beyond our immediate perception. The contemplative tradition in Christian history does this for us as well, setting precedent for our re-interpretation of what it means to pray.

I am proposing that it is neither pious nor precocious to pay attention to small things and to seek to be shaped by the encounter. Neither is it any less a form of prayer.

Contemplative practices, imagination, poetry and art can help open up greater possibilities for our community as we seek wholeness, responsibilty, connection, and change, both personal and communal.

In our group discussion the question arose whether it is necessary first to "know what you believe" about transcendence in order to engage in liturgical practice. We all seemed to agree that there is a certain value in being open to the benefits of ritual and practice while remaining uncertain as to how or whether they correspond to definitive cosmic realities. We recalled with humor the concluding line from Jim Holt's review of Richard Dawkins' recent book:

[Those] ranging from agnostics to "spiritual" types for whom religion is not so much a metaphysical proposition as it is a way of life, illustrated by stories and enhanced by rituals —might take consolation in the wise words of the Rev. Andrew Mackerel, the hero of Peter De Vries’s 1958 comic novel “The Mackerel Plaza”: “It is the final proof of God’s omnipotence that he need not exist in order to save us.”

During our discussion we also talked about work. This is apropos, because the rhythms of daily life are to be considered in contemplative practices. It may be difficult to see a connection between work and contemplation. However, if we evaluate the meaning and the practice of work (somewhat counter-culturally) in terms of vocation and community and not simply in terms of bottom-line economic profit, we may more easily envision our labor, occupation, or profession being done in a contemplative habitude.

Contemplative practices involve an ongoing cyclical movement (in our minds and in our daily "rhythms") between contemplation and work. As a group, we can help each other with this ...by reminding each other just how good it can be to pay attention to small things and by encouraging each other in the practice of doing so regularly.

Christianity and Secular Culture

Ever since I was in my late teens, I have been interested in the relationship of the Christian faith to the broader culture. I think somehow I have always felt caught between these two sources of authority and self-identity, so my personal vocation is deeply rooted in this tension and seeks to bring the two together in a way that is both faithful and authentic.

----------------------------------
As a young Evangelical Christian I assumed the outlook that Christianity is a sect, a religious sub-culture in the midst of the so-called "secular world". Modern culture had been growing increasingly more secular for several hundred years, and the sub-culture of Christianity was by nature and necessity separate from the wider "secular" culture, incompatible with it, and in some ways was even at war with it, competing for cultural influence.

This assumption was challenged, however, as I realized that the secular culture has goods and potentials that actually exceed those of "Christendom", particularly in matters of human rights, peacefulness, and individual freedoms. In fact, western culture in many ways has benefited from the decline of "Christendom", and Christianity has indeed been outdone by the so-called "secular world" regarding widespread progress in social and humanitarian work.

At root, my own reassessment of the relationship of Christianity and secular culture has been the result of realizing that the Christianity of my youth was identified too closely with Christendom, the domination of culture by Christianity through political power and cultural sway.

Historically speaking, the age of Christendom came to an end in what has been called the Enlightenment. Christianity can now be avoided and resisted by its dissenters, a situation that brings genuine freedoms not realized in western culture since Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire in 325 A.D. Since then, Christianity has been encumbered by its own sense of responsibility for cultural arbitration, using political coercion and at times even violence; and its dissenters have been unjustly oppressed. Therefore, I think that the fall of Christendom should be celebrated and embraced, because Christianity in that context too easily becomes intolerant of others and tied to a need for cultural control.

So, the potential compatibility between Christianity and modern secular culture comes into view when we name Christendom as that which is always necessarily at odds with secular culture, not Christianity itself. Christendom having been dismantled, there is now space for both Christianity and western culture each to be true to its own ideals, which do seem to have a certain amount of overlap between them when it comes to peace and justice.

So at times I have wondered if "church" could be conceived as simply a way of speaking about the goods and potentials of the broader culture itself, a theological heuristic device of sorts. If Christianity can be surpassed by secular culture in its own work toward a just society, then perhaps the best way to see the relationship of Christianity and secular culture is one of basic mutual identity, each using its own language to say the same thing.

This could lead toward the notion, however, that Christianity is expendable. And yet Christianity, I believe, offers a unique and valuable perspective on the human condition and our relation to transcendence and should therefore not be dissolved into a kind of humanism that excludes the transcendent in its outlook.

----------------------------------
I have always found myself somewhere in between two polarized assumptions regarding the question of the relationship of Christianity to modern culture, and the search for a clear and satisfying synthesis in these issues continues.

I have been most enlightened, however, by the writings and the analyses of Catholic philosopher, Charles Taylor. He says that modern secular culture contains, as any culture does, an intricate mixture of goods and flaws. The goods of freedom, human rights, democracy, and the right to be different are intricately linked with flaws in our culture, like a lack of meaning (or a disorientation as to any possible horizons of meaning), a utilitarian view of human life, a confused hedonism, indiscriminate wealth, consumerism, and economic injustice.

Many Christians say that the goods and flaws in our culture can be sorted out and separated and that we ought to do just that: sort them out, unify ourselves, and fight for the goods of our culture while fighting against its characteristic flaws. But Taylor argues that the goods and the flaws in any culture cannot be neatly separated and rooted out and that seeking to do this amounts to choosing a side and joining the culture wars, in our case seeking either to reinstate Christendom, or alternatively to endorse an exclusive humanism that leaves no room for transcendence in human speculation and self-assessment.

The way forward, it seems to me, and the way to view the relationship of Christianity and modern secular culture, is to recognize the complexity of these things and remain open to the ways that our culture can speak to us as Christians, and us to it. We must not join the culture wars on either side but simply remain truly present in our culture, recognizing our solidarity with others as we shape our culture together through processes of dialogue and action. And we must invite others through our Christian tradition to hear in freedom the voice of a Spirit that is both immanent and transcendent, both "one with" and "separate from" all of human culture.

Does God Exist?

This was the topic of a formal debate between two nationally known philosophers that I saw last week on video at a local public screening. The event was hosted by the North Carolina Society for Ethical Culture, and I wanted see what kind of dialogue would take place in a public forum on this topic.

I realized during the first minute or so of the opening arguments that I was not really interested in this topic at all, much less in a public screening of the debate. I realized that these were the same basic arguments for and against the existence of God that I had read about in college. There was nothing new here for me in this debate, and suddenly I was bored and ready to leave.

I had assumed that there would be some nuance to the debate and that the two philosophers would acknowledge some of the things that they held in common and then lead us into a fruitful discussion about how we can seek to live together in peace, even though we think differently regarding questions of transcendence. Since that didn't seem to be the case, I left the debate early.

Since then, I came across an article by Catholic philosopher Charles Taylor. This particular article of his maps a range of possibilities available today in the modern West concerning orientations toward the idea of transcendence. Taylor illuminates the rich and beautiful complexity to be considered in these matters. He charts nuanced movements within and among religious traditions, philosophical trends, and spiritual practices. He shows that, while it is even more so the case today, the question of transcendence has been complex throughout history, even within the bounds of particular religious traditions.

This past week, the question "Does God Exists?" was shown to me to be, among other things, passe. And I think that is as it should be. The arguments to support either position on this issue are too often part of an arsenal of weapons routinely employed by either side in the culture wars. In other words, a simple affirmation or denial of this theoretical question, especially when accompanied by arguments, is usually perceived (if not intended) to be an attempt to influence the vision of America that will dominate our culture. The two simple positions represent polar opposites, and discussing the issue without considering its complexity virtually assures that we will continue to be locked into our battles and debates.

Assuming a certain amount of complexity and open-endedness to questions surrounding the ways transcendence comes into human experience seems to me to be the best way forward if we are going to share any kind of constructive dialogue on spiritual and ethical matters.

Authenticity

Alternative is a fellowship, a community of common interests. We discuss questions of human meaning, various themes of Christian belief and wider issues related to modern life in general. We watch films together, finding that the benefits offered in such a medium fit our purposes well. We get together on occasion for activity and fun. In each of these cases we are in fellowship together. One clear connotation of this nomenclature is that we are not primarily about intellectual or social stimulation but about connecting with each other around common interests for the purpose of growth and change in our selves and in our world.

With this in mind, a common goal for us all is to be authentic. To be authentic, according to Webster, is simply "to be of the ascribed authorship or origin". It means we are honest about who we are, where we come from, and our characteristic struggles. So, a common goal for each of us is actually to be, in our lives and in our community together, both in character and in authorship, our true selves. This means that part of our goal is to be able to present ourselves to each other and to tell our own stories in truth.

This is very different from talking about what is true in the abstract. This has more to do with being true, being faithful, and authoring a story that is truly representative of ourselves. This is the kind of truth that we are ultimately looking for in our fellowship together and in our discussions. It is the kind of truth that implies hope that our story can still come out alright, because we are learning to tell it with an honest and hopeful spin, which can also help to guide us. The questions of meaning that we may ask or discuss are never rooted in a vacuum or in the abstract but always in our lives. So, our fellowship is a place for each of us to discover truth by connecting with each other in an authentic way.

This week we are viewing a film called The Station Agent, which is about three people being better for each other and for themselves when they bring to bear their various and respective personal stories. It reels out for us a good example of how difficult this can be and how meaningful it can be to have friends to go with through this curious (and, in truth, sometimes seemingly indifferent) thing called life.

Holy Moments: The Medium of Film

This summer we have gathered together for a few film screenings. We started with Waking Life, a film by Richard Linklater about a young man who finds himself encountering a dreamlike succession of complex philosophical conversations and existential monologues. One of these conversations is a scene that explains in part why I would like to continue viewing films regularly. We also saw You Can Count on Me, by Kenneth Lonergan. This one really gets at the importance of relationships in considering questions of meaning in life. The medium of film itself truly presents us with great possiblities as we continue an ongoing conversation about meaning and seek to open ourselves up to each other, to the world and to life.

Easy Answers

Some may wonder, What does the name, Alternative, mean anyway... an alternative to what? Well, the following statement, which is part of our self-description on the right hand column of this blog, begins to address that question:

We seek to understand the Christian tradition as a healthy alternative to routines of self-indulgence, indiscriminate wealth, blind national allegiance, violence, and political power plays. We seek to move beyond rigid doctrinal and political positions, pat cliches and easy answers. Diverse theological perspectives are welcome.

The first part of this statement is clear and agreeable enough. Most religious traditions, when at their best, would hope to be an alternative to all these things. The second part of the statement, however, is not as clear as it needs to be perhaps. To what are we refering when we speak of "rigid doctrinal and political positions, pat cliches and easy answers"? It is only fair to address this, for if we are seeking to move beyond these things, then we are claiming to be an alternative also to Christian groups that seem to embrace them.

In a previous post to this blog, doubt is affirmed as having value. However, not all Christian groups intentionally welcome doubt as part of their ongoing discussion about faith. This is particularly true concerning doctrines most essential to Christian identity, for example, the belief that Jesus was God incarnate. Some Christians seem to think that belief in such a claim naturally excludes doubt.

While we recognize our solidarity with such Christian groups, claiming with them that God is distinctly present to the world through Jesus of Nazareth, our group encourages the ongoing expression of doubts and questions that naturally arise when discussing such claims. We therefore hope to be an alternative Christian fellowship for those in our culture who are not satisfied simply to receive a set of assumptions about God and reality based on the authority of a tradition alone.

Many people avoid religion in general and Christianity in particular, because they do not think that any one religious tradition should claim to have the full scoop on God or things metaphysical, excluding all other possible conceptions of reality, other views of the Divine. In order to deal honestly with such hindrances, Alternative seeks to move beyond the "easy answers", beyond appeals to special revelation as the final word about that which is ultimately unverifiable and, according to many, unknowable.

More importantly, however, the "rigid doctrinal positions" and "easy-answers" that we seek to move beyond in Alternative refer to truth claims that are accompanied by an arrogant attitude. Others can be very sensitive to this attitude when it is present in us, because it says to them, "We Christians are right, and we are not really open to discuss your views or entertain your doubts about Christian theological claims". Often, of course, it also shuts down conversations and further opportunities to connect with people on deeper levels.

While engaging others, humility, openness and seeking genuinely to connect with their free thoughts are all vital components to relationships that are authentic and fruitful. Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, in his address to the 2006 World Council of Churches said:

When we face radically different notions, strange and complex accounts of a perspective not our own, our questions must be not ‘How do we convict them of error? How do we win the competition of ideas?’ but, ‘What do they actually see? and can what they see be a part of the world that I see?’ These are questions that can be answered only by faithfulness – that is, by staying with the other.

In Alternative, we hope to stay with each other. We hope to eliminate pretenses and open up a conversation wherein authentic Christian belief is represented and reconsidered and wherein all kinds of doubts, doubters, and diverse perspectives are welcome. We trust that openness and friendship will be the context for re-orienting all of us to a way of life that is at the heart of the Christian tradition. We hope that this group will have fruitful discussions to that end. We don't want to forsake the heart of Christian belief, of course, but neither do we want to set up doctrinal boundaries and "easy answers" that exclude people from our discussion.

Doubt, Openness and Friendship

In the introduction to her book, Doubt, Jennifer Michael Hecht includes the following "Scale of Doubt Quiz":

1. Do you believe that a particular religious tradition holds accurate knowledge of the ultimate nature of reality and the purpose of human life?

2. Do you believe that some thinking being consciously made the universe?

3. Is there an identifiable force coursing through the universe, holding it together, or uniting all life-forms?

4. Could prayer be in any way effective, that is, do you believe that such a being or force (as posited above) could ever be responsive to your thoughts or words?

5. Do you believe this being or force can think or speak?

6. Do you believe this being has a memory or can make plans?

7. Does this force sometimes take a human form?

8. Do you believe that the thinking part or animating force of a human being continues to exist after the body has died?

9. Do you believe that any part of a human being survives death, elsewhere or here on earth?

10. Do you believe that feelings about things should be admitted as evidence in establishing reality?

11. Do you believe that love and inner feelings of morality suggest that there is a world beyond that of biology, social patterns, and accident-- i.e., a realm of higher meaning?

12. Do you believe that the world is not completely knowable by science?

13. If someone were to say, "The universe is nothing but an accidental pile of stuff, jostling around with no rhyme nor reason, and all life on earth is but a tiny, utterly inconsequential speck of nothing, in a corner of space, existing in the blink of an eye never to be judged, noticed, or remembered," would you say, "Now that's going a bit far, that's a bit wrongheaded"?

In addition to simply determining whether one is an atheist, agnostic or believer, according to his or her answers, this quiz serves to demonstrate that there is a range of certainty and doubt that overlays the range of perspectives on reality that are commonly available. An unqualified 'yes' or 'no' to the whole set would denote either religious certitude or a kind of atheistic certitude. 'Not sure' answers, hesitations, qualifications or blanks, according to their frequency of occurence, demonstrate doubt.

As we begin our discussions in Alternative, let us agree that doubt has value. Doubt is healthy, and doubt interacting with belief helps a person or group avoid dogmatism and certitude, which can be quite unhealthy, whether it be in favor of belief or non-belief.

"But we are a Christian group, how much doubt is too much before a Christian is no longer Christian?" We propose that this question is irrevelant. Why would we want to disqualify anyone from being what they aspire to be? For as long as there is genuine doubt, the questions are still being asked, and the journey continues. And that is what we want to encourage.

Part of our purpose as a Christian group, however, is to understand better what Christians believe. So, how would we define Christianity? What is at the core of Christian belief? Surely, there is much we will say about this as we go along, but we will find that there are many disagreements and a variety of interpretations of the Bible, its doctrines and even the Apostle's Creed. Not only are there variations of thought and practice among denominations such as Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Lutheran, Anglican, Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox, but also cutting across them is the spectrum of conservative and liberal. We can name several varieties of Christians on this spectrum. Among them are fundamentalists, conservative/evangelicals, moderates, liberal/progressives, inclusivists, and mystics.

So, not only are there many religious perspectives available to us, but Chrisitianity itself is diverse in its constituency and offers many different interpretations of its doctrinal sources.

What kind of unity is there in all this diversity? This question we will hopefully consider as we interact with each other and with people that will join us who believe differently than we do. Alternative is a web of relationships, a network of friends involved in fellowship, discussion and activity. That is a great place for us to start finding unity.

Alternative is a Christian group by designation. Our hope is to develop an understanding of that designation that is open to a wide variety of people associating with us, people of any variety of Christian belief, people at diverse stages of faith and doubt, and people of other religious perspectives. This will also help us get to another equally important purpose for us as Christians who are living in a global age: sharing our lives with and relating to people of other religious perspectives, looking for what we all may have in common, if not doctrinally, then otherwise.