Donal Dorr, missionary and theologian, takes a fresh look at spirituality, sexuality and globalisation in the light of the Church’s meaning and message.
264 pp, Columba Press, 2004. To purchase this book online, go to www.columba.ie .
CONTENTS
Introduction
Part one: what is spirituality?
1. Christian spirituality
2. ‘Wordly’ ingredients of spirituality
3. Spirituality and religion
Part two: sexuality and spirituality
4. The unfolding of sexuality
5. Sexuality: shame, intimacy, and spirituality
6. A Christian spirituality of celibacy
Part three: globalisation and spirituality
7. Globalisation and liberation
8. Globalisation and spirituality in the West
Part four: the Church and spirituality
9. Human experience and Christian faith
10. Pastoral priorities
11. Community-building and Eucharist
12. A way forward: structural changes
|
Review |
|
|
CHAPTER 1: Christian spirituality
If we ask a number of people what the word’ spirituality’ means to them we are likely to get two kinds of answer. Some answers will be similar to that of Patricia Higgins who says, ‘I understand spirituality as “my relationship with God”’ (Higgins 123). But others will probably describe it in more ‘worldly’ terms, such as being nourished by Nature (e.g. walking the hills or by the sea), or their relationship with friends or family, or their commitment to the poor, or to the struggle for justice for women, or for the victims of racism or exploitation.
So we find that there are two apparently different conceptions of spirituality. The first of these is a very traditional one, namely, a personal relationship with God. The other is one which has come to the fore in the Western world in recent times. It seems not to focus at all on a personal relationship with God. Instead it is concerned with one or more of a whole variety of ‘worldly’ values which are ethical and political, or purely personal, rather than religious. These values range from personal integrity and mindfulness, to interpersonal respect, and from fervent concern for human rights and justice in society to a passionate commitment to preserving the integrity of the world of nature.
For me, both of these understandings of spirituality are valid. I know individuals whose view is the more traditional one, and other people whose spirituality takes little or no account of God. In my own life, however, as in the lives of many other Christians, the two approaches come together and are fully integrated with each other. If I were asked which of the two views is central for me I would have to reply that it does not make sense to me to try to choose between them. This is because my relationship with God permeates my commitment to justice, my interpersonal relationships, and the other ‘worldly’ aspects of my spirituality. In the next chapter I shall give a systematic account of the various ‘worldly’ aspects of spirituality. But before that, I propose in the present chapter to give an account of spirituality as a relationship with God – more specifically a relationship with each of the persons of the Trinity.
Jesus, the human one
In attempting to give an account of Christian spirituality I begin with Jesus since he is the origin and centre of our faith. What is most important for me about Jesus is that he provides a key link between spirituality as a personal relationship with God and the more ‘worldly’ ingredients or aspects of spirituality. At the heart of this link is the title which Jesus gave to himself. On dozens of occasions in the gospels Jesus calls himself ‘the Human One’ (cf. Brown 91). The usual translation is ‘the Son of Man’; but – as I have spelled out elsewhere – this is a misleading and sexist translation; a more accurate translation is ‘the Human One’ (cf. Dorr 1996).
What does it mean for Jesus to call himself ‘the Human One’? It means first of all that he is saying that he is one of us, in solidarity with all other humans in the world. Secondly, it implies that Jesus is in some way a model for what it means to be human. Thirdly, it suggests that his main concern was to help people to live a fully human life.
The fact that Jesus called himself ‘the Human One’ tells us that the way to come close to God is not to try to escape from this world or to run away from everyday human issues and problems but rather to live fully authentic human lives. By taking this title Jesus is inviting us to avoid the mistake which many Christians (and Muslims too) have made in the past and which many still make today. They undervalue all aspects of our life here on earth by seeing this present life simply as a kind of test to see whether we deserve to be rewarded by getting to heaven.
If Jesus the Human One is inviting us to live a fully human life as he did, this means that to be his followers we can and should commit ourselves wholeheartedly, alongside ‘humanistic’ people, to the values of justice, respect, personal integrity, ecology, and so on. For these are key ways of living an authentically human life. What is interesting for us as Christians is that we can live out each of these values in conscious dialogue with Jesus. We can explore how he lived out these aspects of spirituality and see how we ourselves can imitate him – while at the same time taking account of the major differences between his culture and ours, and the gap of 2,000 years between us. So the ‘worldly’ and the transcendent aspects of spirituality come together. The living out of ethical and political values is fully integrated into our personal relationship with Jesus.
There is an on-going dialogue among theologians about whether the Christian faith reveals new moral values and obligations, or whether on the other hand the content of morality is the same whether or not one is a Christian. I agree with those who hold that Christianity does not add on any specific new moral obligations (cf. MacNamara 1994: 647-9; and 1998: 157-9). But I have no doubt at all that reflection on the life of Jesus, and prayer to and through Jesus, throws a great deal of new light on how to live morally. Such prayer and reflection brings out aspects and nuances that we find exciting and challenging – and sometimes quite new. In the following pages I shall give some examples of the fresh light thrown by Jesus on different aspects of the ingredients of ‘worldly’ spirituality.
Jesus and nature
Jesus lived mainly in a rural situation where he was in close touch with the rhythms and cycles of nature. It is not surprising that most of his images and parables were drawn from the daily life of the farmers and fishermen around him. But it is significant that in the midst of his very busy public life he felt the need at times to ‘ get away from it all’ by going into the wilderness or up on the hills. This is very encouraging for those of us who find spiritual nourishment through contact with nature, especially in its ‘wilder’ aspects. It reminds us that this does not involve some far-out nature-worship but brings out the fact that in the creation we can make contact with the Creator. It provides a corrective for a conception of God which is one-sidedly transcendent and helps us realise that Christian spirituality includes an ecological dimension.
The gospel accounts of the nature miracles of Jesus raise a very interesting question for me. Could it be that Jesus was so fully in accord with the natural world that he could influence the weather? Could it be that in calming the storm which was threatening to swamp his boat, or in foreseeing a very large catch of fish for his friends, he was exercising neither a magical nor a divine power but rather a power that is strictly human but rarely attained? Jesus, the Human One, may perhaps be inviting us to stretch our human powers beyond what we would have thought possible. Perhaps he wants us to imitate him by becoming so fully in rapport with nature that we too can at times work such ‘wonders’.
This approach offers a framework in which we can accept and understand the well-authenticated accounts we hear of exceptionally holy Hindu men or women who perform actions, such as levitation, which seem to be beyond ordinary human powers. We can see them as people who have learned to exercise, ‘spiritual’ powers which are part of our human potential but are developed only by exceptionally spiritual people. If we follow this line we can give a very practical meaning to the remarks which the gospels attribute to Jesus, when he criticises his followers for the weakness of their faith (Mt 8:26). The faith he has in mind may be not just a general trust in God’s care but also a trust that they could ride out the storm or even calm it as Jesus did; and that much more specific trust would be based on being fully in tune with the rhythms of nature.
Power and powerlessness
One of the most striking things about the public life of Jesus was his attitude to power. What we find in him is a delicate balance. He never used his power abusively. This becomes evident especially in the accounts of his temptations, where we see his determination not to overwhelm or captivate people by an exercise of spiritual power (cf. Dorr 1996: 61; Dorr 2000: 170).
But on the other hand it is clear from the gospels that he did not go to the opposite extreme of relinquishing his personal power and authority. When people were inspired by his personality and his preaching, he had no hesitation in inviting some of them to leave everything and follow him. The life of Jesus is a model which helps us to develop a healthy and respectful lifestyle and spirituality in which we exercise our power and are not afraid to use our charm. But, if we are following Jesus, our life will be one where we avoid all abuse of power and do not allow charm to take on an aura of falseness, or to be tainted by attempts to manipulate others.
Jesus was particularly uncompromising in his challenge to religious forms of domination, authoritarianism, and legalism. He saw that the religious authorities of his time had distorted the fundamental purpose of the Jewish Law. The Law was intended to be an instrument for the protection of the poor and the marginalised. But in the time of Jesus it was being used by self-proclaimed ‘experts’ (the Scribes) to oppress ‘ordinary people’. Looking at our own church, it has to be admitted that in recent centuries church leaders and theologians frequently exercised a quite oppressive power over members of the church. We must repudiate this abuse of power and ensure that it is not repeated.
The gospel accounts of the passion and death of Jesus bring out another aspect of his attitude to power, namely, his ability to discern when it is right to hold on and when to let go. When exercising his public ministry he was quite strategic, at times using his power to confront his enemies strongly and in public, at other times withdrawing from the public arena to devote his energy to coaching his small group of close followers. But then, while he was still in the prime of his life, there came a total change. He knew that ‘his hour’ had come. This meant that he had reached a stage where ordinary human power was no longer efficacious. The only authentically human response to this new situation was to give up his long struggle and to accept that, from a purely human point of view, his mission had failed. So his task now was to relinquish his human powers and resign himself to death. After his struggle in the garden of Gethsemane he was able to do this – but in doing so he entrusted himself utterly into the hands of God (Mk 14:36: ‘… not my will but yours be done’).
There may be times when we find ourselves helpless before the bitter hostility or shameful indifference of those who have power over us. That was the situation faced by Jesus when he was arrested and condemned. He, whose aim was to share our life to the full and to bring us the fullness of human life, now found himself faced with the sheer perversity of a hatred and rejection which was determined to frustrate his purpose and bring his life to a meaningless end. Faced with this intractable evil, Jesus did not deny it or run away. In accepting his crucifixion and death he taught us to have faith in a meaning beyond evil and even, in the last resort, beyond death.
Helpless on the cross, Jesus made his supreme act of faith. In doing so he taught us that the only authentically human response to some rampant evil may be to entrust ourselves utterly into the hands of God as he did (Lk 23:46). When Jesus made that ultimate act of trust he actuated a totally different kind of power – a divine power which drew good out of human failure and powerlessness and which vindicated him when all human power had been defeated in a shameful death (cf. Dorr 2000: 181-2).
All this is very relevant for us in the development of our spirituality. In situations which are difficult or awkward – for instance where we find ourselves in conflict with others or oppressed by a system – we need to be able to discern when to continue the struggle and when it is best to give up and let go. ‘Letting go’ can mean a variety of different things. Sometimes it means walking away from a job which has become too stressful, or from a relationship which has become intractably abusive. At other times it means abandoning the attempt to control the response of one’s colleagues, one’s partner, or one’s children. But eventually it involves facing death. At that point, ‘letting go’ means trusting that the darkness of death does not empty our lives of all meaning. In the last analysis, in situations where the whole project of my life has been frustrated and I am facing total failure from a human point of view, ‘letting go’ means following Jesus by entrusting myself to God in blind faith that God’s love will triumph in ways which I cannot control, or predict, or even imagine.
Jesus’ option for justice, liberation and the poor
It is easy to be concerned for justice and for the poor. Even people who are rich and powerful can be genuinely concerned about the plight of the poor and about structural injustice in society. But to make a really effective option for the poor is far more difficult. It means taking a stand on the side of the poor. And to do this with authenticity and credibility one must come into solidarity with the poor. This means sharing their life in some degree – and not just by living a simple lifestyle but also by experiencing some of their vulnerability, and their sense of being powerless and on the margins.
Jesus gives us a radical example of this kind of solidarity. He came from a despised village. His lifestyle was that of a traveller who had ‘nowhere to lay his head’ (Mt 8:20). He mixed with the common people, he made friends with outcasts who were seen as sinners, and he gave time to healing the sick who were seen as cursed by God.
In this experience of solidarity with poor and despised people Jesus made a clear option not merely to share life with them but to challenge those who were responsible for injustice and oppression – and those who claimed that riches are the mark of God’s favour. By healing those who suffered from shameful diseases he showed that God has not cursed these despised ones, but cares for them with a special love.
Jesus spoke out strongly against those who held power in his country. Not content with condemning their abuse of wealth and power, he set about transforming society in a radical way. So he proposed a set of values which are in stark contrast to those of his time – and of ours: ‘Blessed are you who are poor … blessed are you who are hungry… blessed are you… when they exclude you, revile you, defame you …’ (Lk 6:20-22). Then he gathered a core-group of trusted followers whom he trained to carry on the message and the liberating action. He even dared to invite women into his inner circle of friends and followers.
The rich and the powerful – including the religious leaders – soon realised that, from their point of view, Jesus was a subversive. His words and actions and his whole life were a threat to the very fabric of the society in which they were dominant. Their hatred and opposition built up to the point where they determined to get rid of him. The different power-groups who felt threatened by him formed an alliance to destroy him. And so he paid the price of his option for the poor by being condemned to a criminal’s death.
Even this sketchy account of the life and mission of Jesus shows quite clearly that those who take the side of the poor must expect to pay dearly for their choice. It also shows that it is a dangerous illusion to assume that religion can be kept separate from politics. More frightening still, it shows that religion can be used as an instrument of oppression and that some religious leaders may be very unjust or may be colluding with tyrannical political rulers.
And yet …! The gospels and our Christian faith assure us that it is all worth while. Jesus was vindicated – at least for those who have faith. His witness and his message resound down through the centuries, frequently misunderstood and distorted but constantly re-discovered. They stand today for us as a beacon of hope and inspiration.
Jesus and patriarchy
Jesus lived in a situation where patriarchy was rampant and women were treated as second-class human beings. He challenged this patriarchy quite radically. He repudiated all claims to power and status based on fatherhood (cf. Schüssler Fiorenza 147-51). Jesus treated women as equal to men. For instance, having healed a sick women he put her in the middle of the synagogue (a place reserved for men); and he called her a ‘daughter of Abraham’, a phrase that is unique in the Bible since the Jews invariably spoke of the ‘sons of Abraham’ (Lk 13:12-6; d. Wink 1992: 129-131). Furthermore, he praised Mary, the sister of Martha, when she took the position of a disciple – a role which, in the patriarchal system, only men could have (Lk 10:39-42). The only conclusion a faithful follower of Jesus can draw from all this is that a fundamental aspect of a Christian spirituality must be a repudiation of all traces of the patriarchal mindset.
The vulnerable Jesus
The gospel of John puts a lot of emphasis on the love of Jesus for his friends. We see him as somebody who had really deep friendships – for instance, with Peter, with the disciple John, and with Mary, Martha and Lazarus. In interacting with them he was warm, forthright, compassionate, sensitive – and sometimes frustrated and irritated (e.g. Mt 17:17; Lk 13:34). By offering his love in such an unconditional and trusting way, Jesus left himself very vulnerable – open to be betrayed by Judas whom he had accepted as a friend (Mt 26:49-50), and to be denied by Peter, whom he had picked out for a leadership role (Mt 26:70-5).
Jesus was not content with a one-way relationship where he would be the one offering support and love. He wanted a two-way relationship in which he could call on his friends for support in times of difficulty. This became clear when he faced up to his death in the agony in the garden. He asked Peter, James and John to come with him into the garden and to ‘watch with’ him during those hours of struggle (Mt 26:38). The fact that he begged their support shows not only how vulnerable he was at that time but also how willing he was to let them see this human vulnerability.
This is relevant for us when we come to reflect on spirituality. It indicates that if we wish to live a fully Christian life we should not think in terms of mastery or independence, or rigid self-control. It suggests rather that a Christian spirituality is one which involves asking for support and a willingness to be hurt, to feel rejected and even betrayed. Vulnerability lies at the heart of any authentic spirituality.
Jesus the celibate
I shall treat this topic in chapter 6, so at this point I will confine myself to a brief comment. The gospel accounts of Jesus give no indication that he got married or had an intimate sexual relationship with anybody. When we put that fact alongside the title ‘The Human One’ which Jesus gave himself, an important conclusion emerges. It is that it is not necessary to be sexually active in the genital sense in order to live a fully human life.
That is important, because it goes against the taken-for granted assumption of people of different cultures. In the present-day Western world it is widely assumed that a person cannot be humanly fulfilled without an intimate sexual relationship which is fully genital. And in most traditional African and other primal cultures it has been taken for granted that the human life of a man or woman remains incomplete, almost defective, until that person has a child. The lifestyle of Jesus as portrayed in the gospels calls both of these assumptions into question. It suggests that those who see celibacy as a truly human value and who wish to defend their option to live celibately may find it best to say simply: ‘I am following Jesus and what was good enough for Jesus is good enough for me.’
Jesus the healer
It is clear from the gospels that Jesus had an ability to heal those who were sick or disturbed: ‘power was going out from him and healing them all’ (Lk 6:19). But there is a restraint in these accounts which is in sharp contrast to the apocryphal gospels, which give the impression that the power of Jesus was magical. The way I read the gospels is that Jesus was in touch with a healing energy which is an intrinsic part of human life – a type of power or energy which has been used by deeply spiritual people in various religious traditions.
Jesus passed on this healing power to his followers (Lk 9:1-2; d. Jn 14:12 and Mk 16:18). When Paul and Barnabas healed a lame man in Lystra, they insisted ‘We are only human beings like yourselves’ (Acts 14:15). They had learned from their own experience that they could be in touch with the same kind of healing power as Jesus used. The New Testament suggests that this power normally requires that the person being healed must co-operate by having ‘faith’ (Mt 13:58). The story of the man whose blindness was healed in stages (Mk 8:24) seems to imply that in these cases’ faith’ involves a particular kind of trust – one which enables the healer to activate within the sick person that person’s own healing power.
It is unfortunate that nowadays healing is associated mainly with exceptionally saintly people, or with wonder-working evangelists, or with people in the charismatic movement. Consequently it remains largely on the margins of Christian spirituality. But the New Testament teaches us that the healing ministry should have a central place in mainstream Christian spirituality and in the life of the church. This means being in touch with, and making use of, some degree of healing powers whether they be in the spiritual and psychological sphere or more related to a healing of the body; and the gospels indicate that these different kinds of healings are all closely related to each other.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Brown, Raymond E. (1994), An Introduction to New Testament Christology, (New York and London).
Dorr, Donal (2000), Mission in Today’s World, (Dublin).
Higgins, Patricia (2003), ‘Social Justice, Why Brother?’ of Jesuit Centre for Faith and Justice, Windows on Social Spirituality, (Dublin).
MacNamara, Vincent (1994), ‘Moral Life, Christian’ of Dwyer, Judith A., (ed.) The New Dictionary of Catholic Social Thought, (Collegeville, Glazier).
MacNamara, Vincent (1998), ‘The Distinctiveness of Christian Morality’ cf Hoose, Bernard (ed.) Christian Ethics: An Introduction, (London, Casell).
Schüssler Fiorenza, Elizabeth (1983), In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins, (New York and London).
Wink, Walter (1992), Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination, (Minneapolis).
