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For Such a Time as This
In one section of Dostoevsky’s final novel, The Brothers Karamazov, the middle brother Ivan relates an imagined poem/story to his younger brother Alyosha in which the Grand Inquisitor[1] is interviewing Jesus. Ivan is a brilliant atheist. Alyosha is a devout Christian.
The story imagines the Inquisitor confronting Jesus for having created freewill, which, he maintains, is the cause of everything evil in the world. The Inquisitor’s argument, in part, is that Jesus should have taken the satan’s offer, bowed to him, and seized the world’s kingdoms. Jesus could then have controlled world history, eliminating all the wars, oppressions, poverty, and injustices. Would we not be better off in such a scenario?
Jesus mostly listens, then wins the argument by lovingly kissing his opponent, leaving him stunned by mysterious grace. Later, Alyosha counters Ivan’s intellectual atheism in the same way – not with argument, but with love.
It seems clear that we do not have unlimited freewill. We are products of genetics, environment, influences, and circumstances. Our lives have predetermined parameters. We only have so many years to live, so many opportunities to learn, so much potential capacity. I’ll never be a professional football player or a concert violinist.
But it’s also evident that we have freewill within those parameters. And, in most cases we don’t know exactly where the limits are. Enough brave people have defied the odds and risen above disabilities, disadvantages, and severe adversity to teach us to push the boundaries of possibilities.
Imagine a ship on its way to a foreign port. The port of call is our destiny. Being passengers and not captain or crew, we do not control where the ship finally docks. Moreover, as we sail, there may be events over which we have no control. We might experience illness or injury, for example, or, more positively, we might meet a stranger who changes our lives. But within those parameters over which we have no control, we have freewill, agency, to do what we like, eat when and where we want, talk with whom we choose, and so on. I can choose to spend the voyage in my stuffy cabin, or on deck enjoying the ocean air. Life is somewhat analogous – there are things out of our control, fate, or destiny if you choose, and there are also genuine choices before us.
Some people are content to live within the comfort and familiarity of the ordinary. Routine life in the affluent first-world occident lulls us into the ordinary. Content with the hand dealt to us by the fates, we are happy to be spouses, parents, neighbors, workers. On life’s voyage, we fall into routines. There is nothing wrong with that. It is both honorable and the path of the majority. Moreover, in much of the world, life consists of surviving day to day. Maslow’s hierarchy demands attention.
Yet within all strata of society, some seem almost possessed by a sense of calling. Traditionally, we call this a vocation or a calling. In the common vernacular, “vocation” often means whatever one does for a living. Here, I use the word to mean more than that. Vocation is a deep spiritual sense of calling. St. Paul said, “Woe am I if I preach not the gospel.” His ministry was not a job or a career; it was a divine calling, impressed on him from outside, almost against his will. His freedom came into play when he submitted to that calling. He could have refused. He likely would have been miserable from then on and viewed his calling, his vocation, his fate, as a curse. Submitting, it became his passion. It gave him joy, meaning, and a sense of wellbeing even in adverse circumstances.
True vocations come from the Divine. They contain a sense of destiny and passion. Divine vocations seem to always be in service to creation. I’ve seen it in pastors, priests, veterinarians, social workers, physicians, psychologists, authors, teachers, nurses, naturalists, scientists, and grandmothers. Conversely, one can engage in any occupation as a job, duty, or career, rather than from a sense of calling.
Not all vocations or callings are divine, however. There are people who will sacrifice anything for power, money, and fame. They are obsessed, driven; they have a sense of destiny, but it is infamous. There are nefarious forces in the universe that deceive, seduce, and wreak havoc. If one feels a sense of destiny, one must discern its source. A vocation that promotes health, wholeness, oneness, wellbeing, actualization, individuation, charity, conservation, stewardship, justice, equity, and the elevation of the poor, marginalized, and disenfranchised is almost certainly divine. Conversely, a vocation that leads to the opposite is demonic.
Nietzsche took the demonic path. He proclaimed himself Superman, said that God was dead, called Jesus “the pale enemy,” and insisted that might makes right. Hitler combined that philosophy with populace nationalism, a myth of racial superiority, national exceptionalism, and a perversion of Christianity. Nietzsche wound up insane. Hitler committed suicide after murdering millions.
These are Kairos times – a major transition is underway. Nations, as well as individuals, often get the fate they deserve. I have deep roots in the United States. I’m a member of the Sons of the American Revolution. Ancestors fought to end slavery. My father spent five years at sea combatting Nazi fascism. As a nation, we have never owned and repented of stealing Native land, the genocide of indigenous peoples, slavery, racism baked into our institutions, white supremacy, misogyny, homophobia, political corruption, and the avarice that lies under many evils. As a nation, we are plunging into insidious despotism. An entire political party has been taken over by a lying, cheating, racist, greedy egomaniac. By and large, “white”[2] Christians[3] support a man who embodies the seven deadly sins and whose policies, in so much as he has any, are diametrically opposite of the teachings of Christ.
Is a neo-fascist, jingoistic despotism our national fate? Are we, like Nietzsche and Hitler fated for a destiny we created and deserve? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, within those parameters, we have individual freewill. We can choose how to act and react.
Given this Kairos moment[4], how are we to respond?
On one level, the answer is obvious – take a strong stand for justice, peace, acceptance, understanding, and honesty. Stand with the oppressed, marginalized, victimized, disenfranchised, poor, sick, and outcast. For Christians, proclaim the way of Jesus – love, grace, mercy, nonviolence, hospitality, forgiveness, acceptance, service to those in need.
On a deeper level, recognize that all of us are created in the image of God. All of creation is precious and sacred. God loves every single person so much that Jesus died for them. God is not willing for any to perish.
Coming to that deeper level requires the relinquishment of the ego’s need to control. It requires submission to the overarching Divine Will, at the center of which lies justice and nonviolent resistance to evil. Our collective existence is at stake.
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[1] Most likely Tomás de Torquemada who was Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition from 1483 to 1498.
[2] There is no such thing as a “white race.” Whiteness is an invention of modern racists to support chattel slavery. There is only one race – human.
[3] It is difficult to assign the title “Christian” to those whose beliefs and actions are the exact opposite of what Jesus taught. One’s impeccable doctrine is of little value without the fruit of the Spirit.
[4] Theologically, a kairos moment is an opportune time within God’s plan and will.
Know Thyself
Consistently Inconsistent
With the empowering aid of God’s Spirit, we aim to be consistent in prayer, to consistently love, be consistently kind, consistently forgiving, and so on. When, however, we cling to unchanging dogmatic consistency of doctrine or religiophilosophical worldview, our development is arrested. God, infinite Love, Source of all that is, is far too complex for any theological box. It was that sort of closemindedness to which Emerson referred in this oft-misquoted passage:
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — ‘Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Self-Reliance,” Essays: First Series, 1841
Walt Whitman expressed the same sentiment:
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
– Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, Section 51, 1892
The root meaning of “contradict” is to “speak against.” We need to learn how to speak against the self that existed yesterday. A self that does not change is stunted, numb to the transforming stimuli of an infinite cosmos. That which is not growing is dead. At some level, we know this intuitively. We speak of “growing in Christ,” of “spiritual formation,” of wholeness and actualization. Many of us long for authenticity, to discover and embrace our authentic selves. While hopefully being consistently kind and loving, we learn the necessity of questioning everything. Humility necessitates the possibility that I may be wrong.
We refer to a “false self,” and a true or authentic “Self.” By the latter, we mean the genuine essence of who we were created to be, stripped of the personas we adopt to fit into families, clans, and societies. We aim for consistency of civil behavior, but not consistency of image or belief. Too many of us take what we were taught by organized religion, package it neatly, and shelve it along with other boxes labeled “recreation,” “vocation,” or “family,” taking each down as is convenient. Too many of us have an image of ourselves we seek to uphold at all costs.
In what is often called “the first half of life” (not really a good term because it doesn’t refer to chronological age), it is necessary to create a persona. We take on an identity – we adopt definitions of ourselves from our environment. We define ourselves as, for example, a middle class, college educated, married, parent, school teacher. We are all those things, and this is how we see ourselves.
In the so-called “second half of life,” we are often challenged about those personas. We might experience a financial reversal, win the lottery, or get divorced. Perhaps we experience a significant loss, or our kids leave the nest. Maybe we develop health issues or retire. In some cases, a “mid-life crisis” develops. A scandal in our faith community might challenge our faith. Or, maybe we’re just deep thinkers. Whatever the catalyst, we begin to question. We’re confronted with an existential question: Who am I really? If I’m no longer defined as spouse, parent, or teacher, who am I? If I’m navigating life successfully, I start to realize that those were all personas. They are roles I play and things I do, but none of them are me.
In my case, I have been a pastor, a psychotherapist, a college professor, a hospital and hospice chaplain, a life-coach, and a spiritual director. I’m also a spouse, parent, grandparent, sailor, writer, poet, abstract artist, bird-watching dog owner. For a long time, I defined myself by those roles. It was especially hard on me psychologically when I was no longer “Pastor Larry.” I still teach Bible classes and some people refer to me as “pastor,” but I don’t pastor a traditional brick and mortar church. I’ve come to realize that those are all roles, vocations. There’s nothing wrong with any of them, but they are not me.
Now what? Here, we have a choice. We can go on as we were, sinking dully into old age; or, we can take up the challenge to discover ourselves. Like replacing a dilapidated building with a new structure, our work begins with demolition.
In the Hebrew Bible, YHWH told Jeremiah,
“Now I have put my words in your mouth.
See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms,
to pluck up and to pull down,
to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:10)
Deconstruction comes before construction. Otherwise, you’re just patching up the old personas.
The deconstruction of our false, albeit important, identity involves questioning. Question everything. How do I know I exist? Is there a God? How do I know? If there is a God, what is God like? (Not, what was I taught about God?) What is the purpose of life? Why am I here?
Questioning long-held beliefs can be threatening. Clergy invoke warnings of hell-fire. To question cherished dogma can feel like a betrayal of parents, family, tribe, nation, God. Better to dull the brain with sports or entertainment.
Tragically, some people begin the demolition process and give up by throwing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater. They resign themselves to meaninglessness, sink into despair, or decide to “eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”
For those with the courage to push through, abundant life opens up. We become aware of our connectedness to all creation, we connect with the Source. We discover that the Source is God and God is omnibenevolent, tender, empathetic, and ever-forgiving. We learn to love ourselves. We learn to really love all others (even enemies). We learn to love nature. We learn to love the Creator. We discover that God is not just out there, large and in-charge, but intimate, within, a soft and close as our breath.
How do we push through?
Listen to alternative voices. Hear the wisdom of feminine, indigenous, oppressed people. Listen for the truth in other cultures and belief systems.
Read extensively over a broad range of subjects – history, natural science, psychology, philosophy, theology, politics. Read extensively. Read critically. Read with an open mind, but don’t believe everything you read.
Discuss, share your thoughts, struggles, ideas with others who are also seeking truth.
Engage an experienced, wise, spiritual director who will walk with you through the deconstruction and reconstruction process. That is not a short-term commitment. Spiritual direction often continues for life because we never stop growing.
I’m pretty much of the opinion that everyone could benefit from having both a spiritual director and therapist. My preference for the latter is someone who practices depth therapy, psychoanalysis, which is concerned with transforming the personality, not just shifting thoughts or behaviors (although that too is beneficial).
In her diary, Joyce Carol Oates wrote, “Who can tolerate that most tiresome of bourgeois values, consistency?” How very dull to have all the answers. Periodically, beliefs need replacing or upgrading, so load the new operating system, get the latest hardware. Grow. Learn. Stretch. Challenge. Question. Push back. Seek truth. That which is true cannot be destroyed, and the result is awareness of your genuine core self, which brings deep peace and contentment.
The Word in Focus with Dr Larry Taylor 