We Walked Past the Den of Thieves

I read a post this evening that aroused in me lovely, if not melancholy, sense of nostalgia. Ashley passed through the National Cathedral, and found that "despite it's beauty, grandeur and OPULENCE, (she) felt nothing spiritual whatsoever." She "felt dirty and disgusted walking through that place" and "so incredibly sad, simply because it's a shame to see something built for a specific purpose (to inspire) and fail miserably in doing so."

Her remarks reminded me of my time in Spain, and I commented, saying:

"A friend and I walked El Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage route that runs from all over Western Europe, coalescing into the Royal French Road which leads to the route's final destination, Santiago de Compostela. Our intentions were devotional, though neither of us were Catholics at the time.

The journey was strange. Walking between 20 and 40 kilometers a day, every day, for a month is a necessarily acetic experience. And the physical toll we endured displaced most of my desire to pray, to reflect, and, frankly, to be cordial, or even civil, with my companion. We made friends that we will never forget, even though we remain out of contact. We glimpsed the mystery of Providence, and discovered out of our relative poverty the meaning of hospitality and generosity. We learned not only to endure deprivation, but to respect it, and maybe even love it, a little.

It changed us in many ways, the walk, and, although we knew it then it would take years to learn how, and to try to grasp the meaning of it for our lives.

And this peculiar experience, at once mundane and profound, was unmistakably teleological, and it seemed the goal, naturally enough, was the Cathedral, Santiago de Compostela.

But when we finally arrived, one of the first things the came to both our minds was, 'this is a den of thieves.'

There were so many 'pilgrims' who hadn't broken a sweat to arrive, and to us they couldn't seem genuine, not then.

There was no Mass at the high altar, but in a chapel on the side. The area was enclosed by sound-proof glass with a sign that read something like: RELIGIOUS SERVICE IN PROGRESS; PLEASE BE SILENT. It was like they were monkeys in a zoo, and the tourists were being reminded not to feed them peanuts.

There were things for sale, Scallop Shells (a symbol of the route), walking sticks, t-shirts, and Rosaries.

I wanted to see St. James. I was not one to venerate a Saint, but I had walked all that distance and his memory was infused with the experience. There was a long line, packed by tourists and pilgrims, and the movement of the queue was continuous. It was as if we hadn't arrived. We walked 800 kilometers to see Santiago, and didn't stop at his bones; we walked right past them, and shortly thereafter, out the door.

A den of thieves, we thought.

I would moderate that now, but what we felt was not right, not holy, and neither of us would care to see that church again.

And like you, I found peace in a simpler, humble place.

And, ironically, I have since converted to Catholicism."

There was an upside to Ashley's story, however. Upon leaving the Cathedral, she found a "garden, completely unlike the rest of the area, (which) almost looks neglected, despite being very well manicured. And therein lies the appeal of this place. Despite being overshadowed by one of the most overwhelming buildings in the city, it stands alone, complete separate..." She says that "here, I found peace and much sought after connection to something greater than I. Just in the smell and feel of the wind, the close cropped grass or the hedges, there I felt my insignificance yet utter importance for the first time in a long time. To say the least, it was kind of amazing."

And from this she draws the conclusion, "I slowly work my away towards being somewhat a pantheist. Help me."

To which I reply; "It is not a platitude to say that God made the garden in which you encountered something...amazing. And it is not pantheistic to recognize, coming out of a sense of opulence and spiritual aridity, in the cool January wind, something God-like smells."

God bless Ashley, who can count on one hand how many people address her by her full first name on a regular basis.

Scapulars, a Part of Catholic Culture

A friend, Sam, asks about scapulars, wondering, "Do you know the responsibility or reasoning behind wearing one, that would be different then wearing a crucifix?"

Scapulars have a long history, which is recounted in detail here, though I warn you, the read is rather dry.

All religious apparel, including vestments, jewelry, crosses, and robes are sacramental in character. A sacramental is something, an act, rite, object or substance (i.e. holy water), that instills a disposition in the faithful that facilitates the reception of grace, especially, but not exclusively, through the sacraments.

In the Sacraments of the Catholic Church (Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Marriage, Ordination, Reconciliation, and Anointing the Sick) the grace represented in the signs is actually received, independent of the disposition of those administering the sacrament. Contrarily, the efficacy of sacramentals depends on the disposition of those who participate in the sacramental. The grace received through anointing with holy water, or through praying during the Mass, or through using the Rosary, or through walking a pilgrimage, or through wearing religious jewelry depend on the participant's faith in conjunction with the act, object, substance, or prayer. At the same time, those very acts, objects, substances, and prayers will cultivate a disposition towards faith and the reception of grace in any form.

So, praying during Mass will not necessarily be a means of receiving grace, but it will dispose you to the reception of grace in the sacraments. If one were to feed the poor, which is a sacramental act, while hating the poor, they will not receive the grace involved in the act. However, the act itself will help to form that person so that they will be more likely to perform the act with love, especially if it is in conjunction with other good and sacramental acts.

This is not to say that grace is not received through sacramentals. A person who receives the poor with love will receive grace, and will be transformed by it. However, the act itself does not contain the grace received. Contrarily, a consecrated Host, whether St. Francis of Assisi or Adolph Hitler eats it, contains the Body and Blood of Christ and that very Body and Blood will be received regardless of the disposition of the recipient. That being said, God's self-giving in the Eucharist does not overide the free will of men; moral and spiritual preparedness remains the "precondition both for the reception of other graces conferrred in the celebration itself and for the fruits of new life which the celebration is intended to produce afterwards" (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1098). The Sacrament is not made by the power of humanity, but humanity must open itsef to be re-made by the power of the Sacrament.

Both the crucifix, worn as jewelry, and scapulars are sacramentals. The primary difference between them is that wearing a crucifix does not involve proscribed rules for its use, and so does not have the same quality of disposing the wearer to grace as does the scapular.

Scapulars are adapted from the habit, or religious clothing, worn by monks, and their use, as described in the link above, has a long and varied development. Different monastic communities have developed the tradition of wearing the scapular in their own ways, and the image, color, text and size of the scapular will vary depending on the community who uses it. There are scapulars that are devoted to various saints, to Mary, to qualities of Christ, like his Blood and Sacred Heart, and to the Trinity. When a person is invested with a scapular, there are prayers or rites that are prayed over the garment, blessing it and its user. In some cases, the wearer is obligated to pray in a certain way, for example uttering the Hail Mary three times a day, or other prayers particular to the tradition of the scapular being worn. For a person properly disposed, who has worn the scapular faithfully and acted according to its regulations, indulgences are given by the Church.

Both scapulars and crucifixes can be meaningful accessories that help to remind us of God, and his works and graces. Both, again, can be more or less pointless, or even sacrilegious, expressions of personal vanity or taste.

Something of particular merit and beauty about the scapular is that it is a specifically Catholic tradition. To wear a scapular is an act that draws a person into the culture of the Church. The scapular is connected to the history of monasticism, to the saints and our veneration of their holiness, to the ongoing prayers and intercessions of the 'cloud of witnesses', and to our local parish community and priest, where it is distributed and blessed. And, despite its connection to the Church community, to wear the scapular is an individual exercise, a devotion and sacramental prayer that works continually, in our homes, work places, schools, malls, and cars. And it acts continually as a sign, reminding the wearer to pray, and to reflect the face of Christ to everyone they encounter.

It is a wonderful tradition, one among many that each new generation of Catholics has the responsibility to foster and hand down to our posterity.

An article that has been influential in my life as regards the importance of Christian Culture can be found here. I strongly recommend any of Robert Louis Wilken's writings.

On Truth, A Remarkable Post

Apparently, I haven't been paying attention. A friend suggests that is the only reason I would not have heard about the minor controversy surrounding a book of the month pick for the famous 'Oprah's Book Club'. Thankfully, he has been paying attention, and has written a poignant comment on the Truth, and the way we demand to know about it:

http://thinkerlabs.ca/domruso/

Thank you, Dom.

Benediction

I published my last post in quite a hurry, finishing it five minutes after I should have left for Mass. It occurs to me that I missed one of the most important points. Joe Chip finished his comments with a blessing-for which I am quite honestly grateful- saying, "May the Holy Spirit sustain you in your spiritual growth."

In kind:

May the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord let his face shine on you and be gracious to you.
May the Lord show you his face and bring you peace.

Amen

More on Gnosticsm

Joe Chip posted an interesting comment on my blog about Harry Potter, remarking on my brief summary on Gnosticism. He points out that "Gnostics did not and do not believe that Gnostic myths are 'the fullest comprehension of the real.'" I entirely agree with him on this point and repudiate my statement. Most mystics, no matter their tradition, would cringe at the notion that their ideas of God or the Ultimate Reality or Truth could be conveyed, comprehensively, in words. Our means of communication are intrinsically limited, and few know this better than those who have encountered the ineffable, and want to talk about it. This notion, of our limits to talk about God, is developed in greater or lesser degree depending on the theological or philosophical system through which God is understood. The Judeo-Christian tradition understands God to be a God of revelation, the culmination of which is the person of Jesus Christ, God incarnate. Much of what we can say about the divine will be articulated in negative theology, saying what God is by listing what he is not, but we also have the means of articulating positive theology because of the Trinity's self-revelation in and through Jesus. Classical Gnostics did not believe that God was revealed in creation, or in the incarnate Christ, but was so unknowable that even to say, in terms of negative theology, that God is ineffable, is to say that something is known of him. As Jean Danielou writes, according to the Gnostics, "God is unknown absolutely, both in his essence and in his existence; he is the one of whom, in the strictest sense, nothing is known, and this situation can be overcome only through the Gnosis." It is in this context that the essential dualism of Gnosticism is made apparent, contrary to the claims of Joe Chip, because this unknowablility of God is "a question of radical dualism, distinguishing between the God of whom the world enables us to form some idea (who is merely the Demiurge) and the God who has no connection whatever with the world, and who can be known only by means of himself."* In this context it is clear that my sentence was inappropriate.

I find it interesting, as well, that several of Joe's statements could be read as statements of Orthodox Christianity. For example, "Gnosis is salvific insofar as it transforms our being and brings us into union with the divine, making us like Christ, little christs and all that that entails--boundless compassion, selflessness, humility, etc." Deification is the effect of salvation, and this has been well developed in Orthodox Christianity, finding its essential and distinct beginnings in the Gospel of John, and finding episcopal articulation in the writings of Athanasius.

Also, "The Eucharist is a localized transubstantiating event, a redemption of matter by alchemically transmuting it into the spiritual substance of the body and blood of Christ, bringing Christ and matter into union, a local Incarnation." The use of the word 'alchemically' is inappropriate; God's redemptive work is not a magical manipulation of material reality, but a re-creative healing of reality. However, the essential idea is true: Christ is made present in the Eucharist by the power of the Holy Spirit, and the gifts of bread and wine are substantively changed and redeemed, mysteriously incorporating the real presence of the crucified Lord. It is a local Incarnation.

That being said, I think Joe's understanding of Gnosticism reflects an anachronism common to contemporary Gnostics. The unity of neo-Gnostic thinking does not reflect the highly variegated religious, philosophical, and mystical communities and individuals of antiquity who have been grouped in modern scholarship by their common ideas under the rubric, Gnostic. Vanentinus, Basilides, and Marcion have each been called "Gnostic" by various writers, and each had a very different appreciation of the nature of reality and how it could be understood. As I wrote in the post, "Gnosticism as it existed in Late Antiquity was distinctly religious. The Gnostics were inheritors of the mystery cults and middle and neo-Platonism. To this admixture was added the ideas and stories of the Jews and Christians, a real mélange of beliefs." For support I quote Justo L' Gonzalez in A History of Christian Thought (Abington Press: 1970):

Under the general title of "Gnosticism" are included several religious doctrines that flourished in the second century, and whose main characteristic was their syncretism. The Gnostics would take any doctrine that they found valuable, without any regard for its origin or for the context from which it was taken. When they came to know early Christianity and saw its great appeal, they attempted to take those aspects of Christianity which seemed most valuable to them and adapt them to their systems... There has been a great scholarly debate regarding the origins of Gnosticism, but this debate probably can never be settled because of the syncretistic nature of Gnosticism itself, which makes use of Persian dualism as well as oriental mysteries, Babylonian astrology, Hellenistic philosophy, and practically every doctrine that circulated in the second century. (pg. 128-129)

And Paul Johnson in A History of Christianity (London: Penguin, 1988):

No one has yet succeeded in defining ‘Gnosticism’ adequately, or indeed in demonstrating whether this movement preceded Christianity or grew from it. Certainly Gnostic sects were spreading at the same time as Christian ones; both were part of the general religious osmosis. Gnostics had two central presuppositions: belief in the existence of a secret code of truth, transmitted by word of mouth or by arcane writings. Gnosticism is a ‘knowledge religion’ - that is what the word means - which claims to have an inner explanation of life. Thus it was, and indeed is, a spiritual parasite which used other religions as a ‘carrier’. Christianity fitted into this role very well. It has a mysterious founder, Jesus, who had conveniently disappeared, leaving behind a collection of sayings and followers to transmit them; and of course in addition to the public sayings there were ‘secret’ ones, handed on from generation to generation by members of the sect. Thus Gnostic groups seized on bits of Christianity, but tended to cut it off from its historical origins. They were Hellenizing it [making it acceptable to the Greeks (from ‘hellenas’=Greek)]... Their ethic varied to taste: sometimes they were ultra-puritan, sometimes orgiastic. (pg. 45)

Joe Chip's claim that "gnosis is not just for Gnostics... Anyone can have gnosis," reflects common liberal sentiments of inclusion and pluralism more than historic conceptions of gnosis. Also, his suggestion that perhaps what I "perceive as mere imagination is a kind of gnosis, the recognition that creeds and dogmas are not, in fact, reality," reflects the subjectivism and relativism characteristic of Unitarian or universalistic conceptions of reality and religious expression. The implication is that transcendent truth can be interpreted through the doctrines and creeds of various religious traditions so long as those doctrines and creeds are recognized as mere "pretty symbols pointing the way, but not the way itself, just as the finger pointing to the moon is not the moon itself."

What is most interesting to me about this is the evidence it provides for the enduring syncretistic and parasitic nature of Gnosticism, even in its contemporary forms. While still drawing on its old sources of Platonism, Christianity, Judaism, and near-Eastern paganism, it manages to draw also on nihilistic relativism, subjectivism, and universalism. This also sets into context the apparent near-orthodoxy of some of Joe's, and other Gnostic’s, statements; they are Christian doctrines, pilfered and modified to match a Gnostic paradigm.

And the paradigmatic shift from antique Gnosticism to neo-Gnosticism, which draws on the philosophical sources previously mentioned, serves to validate what I posted, that "most people in the West, being skeptical, do not actually impart religious belief to anything Gnostic." Rather, they use the fascinating and affective Gnostic fictitious formula, employed in its characteristically parasitic and syncretistic manner, to formulate a spiritually compelling story that generates a religious feeling that can cloak their essentially non-religious world-view.

I am interested to read Meditations on the Tarot: A Journey into Christian Hermeticism, as recommended by Joe Chip. The Penguin edition has an introduction by Hans Urs von Balthasar, one of the greatest Christian thinkers of the past century.

*Jean Danielou, A History of Early Christian Doctrine: Vol 2, Gospel Message and Hellenistic Culture (Dartman, Longman, & Todd: London 1973) pg. 336-337

To Eat Phlegm for the Love of God

Recently, I remembered a pericope of the Desert Fathers that stunned me as a horrible and wonderful example of self-control, and of love. From Benedicta Ward's compilation of The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks, On Self Control, no. 70:

At a meeting of the brothers in Scetis, they were eating dates. One of them, who was ill from excessive fasting, brought up some phlegm in a fit of coughing, and unintentionally it fell on another of the brothers. The brother was tempted by an evil thought and felt driven to say, 'Be quiet, and do not spit on me.' So to tame himself and restrain his own angry thought he picked up what had been spat and put it in his mouth and swallowed it. Then he began to say to himself: 'If you say to your brother what will sadden him, you will have to eat what nauseates you.'

I am a man weak in spiritual discipline.

At an RCIA meeting last night, we discussed the approaching season of Lent as it relates to the stage of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults entitled, Purification and Enlightenment. It is a time of internal scrutiny, penance, prayer, fasting, and discipline - all in an effort to prepare the catechumens and candidates to receive the sacraments. Each of our weekly sessions will be orchestrated towards cultivating our sense of the Passover, the paschal mystery of the passion, the meaning and magnitude of Christ's journey to Golgotha, his love, suffering, self sacrifice, and thanksgiving.

I suggested that we strongly encourage the candidates and catechumens to fast during Lent, and to fast seriously. They should be encouraged to take on real deprivation in order to share in suffering, to hunger - physically - for the Feast of the Resurrection, and to foster the seeds of discipline in their Christian youth so that it can grow into a felicitous strength for their future lives as heirs to the Kingdom. And I suggested that we, the RCIA team, should do likewise.

My fellow RCIA facilitators, all orthodox and devoted Catholics, agreed that fasting is a valuable spiritual exercise, but made many, vigorous arguments against being too encouraging on the subject. To be fair, I think that my wording may have made it seem like I would demand of the Catechumens that they fast, and that would be wrong. And my friends pointed out that, according to the definitions published by the Canadian Council of Catholic Bishops, fasting includes not only abstaining from food, but from other good and natural activities, and from increased devotional or charitable deeds. And they make a valuable point.

The most important thing in the fasting, however, is the act of deprivation, of taking from the self for the sake of God, and of conditioning our souls, minds, and bodies to be true and faithful servants of Christ, in all circumstances. We are to train like athletes for spiritual fitness, and works of discipline are our exercise.

So to tame himself and restrain his own angry thought he picked up what had been spat and put it in his mouth and swallowed it.

It is horribly disgusting. It is a profound act of love, discipline, and sacrifice.

Would that we all might condescend to eat phlegm for the love of God.

Harry Potter, Paganism, Gnosticism, and Literary Criticism

The following post is a part of an email that I sent to a friend in response to an article on Harry Potter written by the novelist, painter, and essayist, Michael O'Brien. The article can be found at:

http://studiobrien.com/site/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=21&Itemid=69

It has been a long time since I read the article, Harry Potter and the Paganization of Children’s Culture, by Michael O’Brien. I found the it at once compelling and disturbing. Usually, this is the case when I read an article or book that has a good argument that I ‘somehow’ don’t like. The unrest that this combination gives me is nice in a way; it drives my consideration of the work and makes me want to write about it. But, with summer vacation, family life, other reading, and work, I haven’t had time to devote enough thought to fully develop my response to the article. And, frankly, the topic is not important enough to me to warrant much more consideration. So, what follows is a sketch of my ideas, and not an attempt at a comprehensive examination.

I’m not convinced that Michael O’Brien understands literature.

His introductory paragraphs deal with the definition of imagination as a tool for our minds to approach the “realization of wonder” as a means of opening us to “reverential awe before the Source of it all.” Understanding imagination in this way leads him to see the works of imagination as having an essentially religious function. It may be the case that our imagination makes us capable of the “realization of wonder” and it disposes us to contemplate the glory of God, but that is not to say that this is the singular function of literature.

Creation myths in the Near-East are a type of fictitious narrative and form our earliest recorded texts. These texts were related to the religious systems of the people who created them and they served a religious function. The early Greek works served a similar role. Homer and Hesiod recorded the activities of the deities in fiction and these works were treated as educational and religious tools alongside the cult of the pantheon. The best tragedies, works by Euripides, Sophocles, and Aeschylus, were produced for the religious feast of Dionysius, and may have had come to replace an earlier sacrificial ritual. The Bible is a complicated book that blends fact and fiction into a sometimes bewildering mixture, and it is unquestionably a religious book that is used for moral instruction and to prepare us for the contemplation of God and His ways. These books all have their origin, and some their function, in a religious context. Yet, they are all very different books and cannot be judged according to a sole criterion, ‘what religious message to they impart?’ If O’Brien thinks that Christians shouldn’t read Harry Potter for moral reasons, then he must also suggest putting away Gilgamesh, the Enuma Elish, Homer, Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Aristophanes and countless others. I wonder if he would suggest this? I don’t. Our cultivation requires that we appreciate great literature. Our edification requires that we regard great literature through the truth of the Gospel, insofar as we are capable.

It may be unwise to introduce an 8 year old to Oedipus Rex, which involves King Oedipus unknowingly killing his father and marrying his mother. But, Harry Potter isn’t as bad as that, I suggest, and a 10-12 year old should be able to manage.

The book that is regarded as the first modern novel is The Ingenious Hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha, by Miguel Cervantes Saavedra. If I had to classify it, I would say that it is 1 part comedy, 1 part satire, and 1 part adventure story. It follows a small landowner/farmer, Don Quixote, who is convinced that he is a knight errant, and, quite delusional, he wanders around with his moronic tenant, Sancho Panza, through the Spanish countryside getting into all sorts of trouble. The story is replete with sexual misadventure, toilette humor, immoral behavior, and violence. I will not venture to judge to moral value of this book. It is important to note, however, that it is emphatically not a religious text. Certainly, it reflects the culture in which it was written. But, it was not written to be used as a work of religious or moral instruction. And so, it ought not to be judged by the standards applicable to works of religious or moral instruction. If a child read Don Quixote and contemplated it as a religious work, he might develop some seriously strange ideas about holiness, or divinity.

Harry Potter is much more likely to elicit the desire for imitation among the young than Don Quixote, but I believe that it is a serious error in judgment to think a child of 10-12 years of age does not know the difference between a novel and a religious text.

There is a reason we read novels and a reason we read religious works.

I do not mean to draw a parallel between the Harry Potter series and the great works of Western civilization. I believe, however, that it is important that we pay careful attention to the role that our fears play in our assessing the read-worthiness of any book. Undue anxiety about the subconscious effects that Harry Potter stories might have on our children could prevent them from reading a book that is, indeed must be, well crafted for that particular audience. If all books that we read had the same moral direction, the same moral lessons, the same appraisal of character, the same ideas about action and consequence – in short, the same worldview – then literature as a whole would suffer. In a perfect world we are all Christian and act, talk, and think in a Christian way. In reality, we get to a perfect world, in part, by struggling with and against a fallen world. Literature, good literature, needs to include the voice of the fallen in order that we can enter into that struggle. It is a part of our duty as Christian parents to teach our children how to read religiously. That must start from birth, and must include the use of the Bible and holy texts continually so that they, as they learn to think, have the means to struggle with the works of the world. Hiding our children from the works of the world will not protect them from sin. Teaching them how to engage the works of the world will.

It is our duty, also, to decide when our children are prepared to enter into that struggle. I do not suggest blindly feeding our children any and all trash at hand. I suspect, however, that Harry Potter does not qualify as simple trash.

Near the end of his article O’Brien asks us if we would allow our children to read a book about more or less good fornicators, or about more or less good drug dealers. He is well aware that most of us who call ourselves Christians would not. He then asks us why we would allow our children to read a series of books about a more or less good wizard. By his opinion there is equivalence between sorcerers and fornicators and drug dealers. In fact, he suggests that sorcery is possibly more dangerous than the latter. In support of this, O’Brien draws on the work of Father Gabriel Amorth, author of An Exorcist Tells His Story. Both O’Brien and Amorth claim that sorcerers are real, exist, and are fundamentally connected to the demonic.

I have read Father Amorth’s book and have thought on it quite a bit. There are difficulties that people in the West have with accepting and believing in the supernatural, and these difficulties, which I share, represent a type of weakness in the collective and the individual faith of Western people. However, it is no less a weakness to presume, against the collective experience and teaching – indeed the non-doctrinal education of our pastors, Catholic and otherwise – of the Church and society that we have something to fear from sorcerers and magic. Without question, we have cause to fear the influence of the culture of sex and drugs on our children. I know people who have been addicted to drugs and who have AIDS. There is good reason to believe that the demonic is behind that. However, I have never known anyone who has had and experience of being truly hexed, truly cursed, or truly possessed. I do believe that there is meaning to the term, ‘possession’, and I do believe in the reality of demons, but I do not think that there is any immanent danger of the oppression of demonic forces in connection to almost all of the ‘occult’ in North America, and certainly not via the conduit of Harry Potter.

Finally, I would like to make a comment about O’Brien’s use of the term ‘Gnosticism’ in relation to the Harry Potter novels. Historical Gnosticism was a varied thing, and I must admit that I have not studied it directly, but have read a great deal about it while studying early Christianity. Gnosticism as it existed in Late Antiquity was distinctly religious. The Gnostics were inheritors of the mystery cults and middle and neo-platonism. To this admixture was added the ideas and stories of the Jews and Christians, a real mélange of beliefs. The mystical speculations of the Gnostics were, fundamentally, imaginative – as is all speculative theology. However, the imagination and its ability to inspire awe in the believers were not for imagination’s sake, or for awe’s sake, but, in the eyes of the Gnostic, to attain true Gnosis, true knowledge of the true reality. They believed that their imaginings were the fullest comprehension of the real. The wonder of their speculations and the incubating cult that they practiced was designed to convince the believer that he or she approached the divine. This was all very religious in a conventional understanding of the term. The fiction of the mystery cult, the fiction of the true, hidden knowledge, the fiction of the speculative theology, and the fiction of the dualistic reality (light against dark, matter against spirit) cultivated the believer’s intellect towards the Gnostic beliefs. That is to say, the system vindicated itself by producing itself.

After the Enlightenment most Westerners are profoundly skeptical. O’Brien argues this himself. And those who are attracted to Gnosticism are themselves usually skeptical. For those aware of the trend in Biblical scholarship towards equating Gnostic texts with the Gospels, it should seem clear that an at best agnostic, relativist, and anti-Christian agenda dominates scholarship dealing with Gnosticism, especially in popular publications. For those who are not aware of this trend, and who are interested in the way the Bible is handled by many of the ‘experts’, read Phillip Jenkins’ Hidden Gospels: How the Quest for the Historical Jesus Lost its Way. My point follows. Most people in the West, being skeptical, do not actually impart religious belief to anything Gnostic. However, insofar as what remains of Gnosticism is Gnostic, it is capable, as it was designed to be, of generating a sense of wonder, awe, and mystery, revolving around a secret knowledge. This Gnostic formula has been worked and re-worked into an innumerable variety of fictitious literature, of which the Harry Potter series is the latest and by far the most popular. There is nothing un-Christian about affirming the quality of the Gnostic fictitious formula, or of employing it in literature, so long as it is not connected to a religious reality, but is understood as a work of the imagination. Under these conditions, the Harry Potter series is benign.

The question might be raised, what about the New Age? What about the best selling occult, shamanism, Wicca, and so on? To this I answer, it is deadly. Is it deadly because it will lead our children to possession and Satanism? I don’t think so. It is deadly because those who practice these things are worshipping their imagination, their demi-created un-realities, rather than the one true God. The same danger threatens all who are not Christian. There is no particular danger to the New Age, I suggest. For a perspective on how the New Age developed in America, especially as it relates to Native American spirituality, read Phillip Jenkins,’ Dream Catchers: How Mainstream America Discovered Native Spirituality.

Truth be told, I recommend all of Phillip Jenkins’ books.

I am well aware that I lead by criticism. My former pastor called me a gadfly for this reason. It’s mostly because I find it boring to talk about what you agree with, and especially tiresome to write about it.

Nonetheless, I must say that I agree with O’Brien on a number of points. We should be more careful of what our children read and watch. TV is bad. We entertain ourselves too much. We don’t have enough Christian culture and the West is sliding back into pre-Christian symbolism. There is a deadening of our moral nerves when we continually expose them to immorality. We should be more ‘shockable’. We need to take the supernatural more seriously (though we need to do it well). At times, the humanities and social sciences lead discussions that would be better lead with theology. The imagination should be understood and employed (but not exclusively) in the context of worship. Etc.

Something I really appreciate about Michael O’Brien is that he is involved in the creation of Christian culture. He is a novelist who has written a number of books. I have only read the Father Elijah: An Apocalypse, the first in a series. Also, he is an artist, essayist, and edits a Catholic newspaper. I recommend his book and a visit to his website, found in my links.

And now I think I’m done with this. Maybe in a decade or so I’ll read a Harry Potter book.

Blogging Ineptitude

I haven't been blogging lately, because I haven't had internet access at home lately. I am temporarily in service and will have full access in a couple of days. For the one or two people who check in on this blog, more will be coming soon.

A Treasure Making Treasures

A good friend of mine was in town for Christmas and I had the wonderful opportunity to meet with him and enjoy conversation over drinks. He studies Spiritual Theology at Regent College in Vancouver, and is a devout and frankly pious evangelical. We both were privledged to have been mentored by a wonderful man who exposed us to the riches of Tradition, the importance of spiritual formation, and the necessity of experience and encounter with the Divine in our journey as exiles in this fallen world. Our conversations are always edifying and often leave a lasting impression on my thoughts and imagination. In this recent period of conversation, my friend opened my eyes anew to the special grace and wisdom of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA).

Initiation into the Catholic Church has been long formed by the Church's role in culture: most Catholics are born into the religion and for centuries it had been the only option available to the community in which it was situated. Children were baptized in their infancy and it was their parents' responsibility to educate them in the ways of the faith. Parental instruction was facilitated by parish programs, and through the education system of the time. But adults who were called to the Catholic Church did not have a developed rite to initiate them into the Body of Christ; instead, one-on-one instruction or small class instruction educated them on the primary doctrines of the faith, and they were subsequently baptized in a small and often private affair.

As an initiative of the Second Vatican Council the RCIA has been developed to restore the more ancient model of Christian initiation. And, like so many of the reforms articulated by Vatican II and interpreted through the papacy and the episcopate, we now have available to us a treasure that forms treasures. I have been recently asked to take the responsibility of RCIA Coordinator for my parish, and I gladly accepted the offer. I told my friend about this, and he asked me to explain what the RCIA was. I told him that the RCIA, as our diocese approaches it, has four parts: Inquiry, Catecumenate, Purification and Enlightenment, and Mystagogia.

The Inquiry period runs year-round, on the second and fourth Wednesdays of each month, from 7 to 9 in the evening. Interested people drop in and participate in prayer, scripture reflection, topical discussion, and have the opportunity to ask questions about the faith. Through prayer and discernment it is determined if the candidate is interested and prepared to enter into the Catechumenate.

Once in the Catechumenate, the candidate participates in the liturgical cycle for one full year. During this year, the catechumen is exposed to the liturgy, parish life, and all the major doctrines of the Church. Presuming that, after one year of catechesis, the candidate is prepared for baptism, he or she is admitted into Purification and Enlightenment, which roughly corresponds to the season of Lent.

In Purification and Enlightenment, the catechumen undergoes guided reflection, prayer, retreat, fasting, and penitence in preparation for baptism at Easter. The main emphasis at this point is not instruction, but spiritual formation and preparation in anticipation of their meeting Christ in the sacraments.

Over the glorious Triduum the candidates pass through the sufferings, death and resurrection of Christ and through the waters of Baptism, supping on Jesus' body and blood, becoming new creatures in full communion with the Church.

In the following weeks of Easter, the neophytes reflect on their experiences during Mystagogia, through mystagogy, or instruction in the mysteries.

After explaining the RCIA process to my friend, he nodded appreciatively and said, "That's what we need in our church; more of our churches need to do things like that."

I remember while I was a part of an evangelical community how often I would be involved in conversations about discipleship, Christian education, and the poverty of knowledge and experience endemic in our communities. So many of our communities had shallow experiences of the faith, or had deep experiences of God that could not be properly understood and were not properly cultivated. Precious few had any understanding of the basic theology regarding their baptisms, or of revelation, or of doctrines like the Incarnation or the Trinity. Too many churches were populated by infants of the faith and could not boast of the instruction that the author of the letter to the Hebrews described as "fundamental doctrines...turning away from dead actions, faith in God, the teaching about baptisms and the laying-on of hands, about the resurrection of the dead and eternal judgment (Heb 6:1-2)."

The problem of Christian infancy is not, by any means, an issue particular to evangelicals. Catholic churches have their own burden of adult infants who would choke and wretch on solid food. But within the Catholic Church, the majority of those people are, to use a detestable term, 'cradle Catholics', who have not realized the seriousness nor the cost of true discipleship to Christ.

The same cannot be said of mature converts within Catholicism. Not, at least, within the diocese of Calgary, and within any Catholic community faithful to the teaching of the Magesterium and the council regarding the RCIA. We have been given a treasure that forms treasures, and "That's what we need in our church; more of our churches need to do things like that."