Father Gabriel (Bunge)’s points about spirituality in my second last post highlight a theme that I have been very conscious of in recent months, namely the widespread contemporary interest in “spirituality” but also the vagueness and ambiguity of this concept. I had been aware of a growing interest in “spirituality” and “mysticism” in the Netherlands and had had problems with it. And I had been aware that similar trends were at work elsewhere in the West, including in South Africa. But coming back here I have encountered this in a particularly marked way which has sometimes left me wondering how to respond. Whereas interest in “spirituality” tended to be viewed with a certain amount of suspicion twenty-five years ago as detracting people from the earthly struggle, it now seems to be all the rage. And whereas I had been eagerly looking for more resources in “spirituality” – albeit an engaged one – twenty-five years ago, I have now become decidedly hesitant, if not rather hostile, towards much that passes for this genre. And yet I do rather wonder how to respond to people engaged with it. I do not want to discourage people who are actively seeking a life of prayer, and a way of uniting faith and life. But the underlying assumptions of what is often presented as “spirituality” are often, well, decidedly problematic.
This was highlighted for me by a recent interview with Charles Villa-Vicencio. He is (or was) a leading South African theologian, a Methodist, who has worked in a liberationist mode and is now arguing for the importance of “spirituality.” He states:
For me, spirituality has to do with having an openness towards life and towards truth. It means wanting to move beyond any closed ideological, dogmatic system. It also means a willingness—and, in fact, a desire—to discover what lies beyond the material. I’ve often said to myself that the question of God and the question of the divine are more important than the answers. It’s a very, very arrogant thing to begin to describe who God is or what the divine is. Yet these questions range from the relationship between religion and the sciences to ethical inquiry, and certainly to political justice, reconciliation, and coexistence. In that sense I regard myself as a very spiritual person. But I find myself resisting institutional forms of religion that try to impose upon me and everyone else a definition of the divine. It’s openness that I think is really important.
I am highlighting this not to attack Villa-Vicencio or to engage in polemics about liberal Protestantism or liberation theology – and conservative Catholics and Orthodox finding common ground in demonizing such people is another one of the things that I find quite distasteful about some online interactions. I have never met Villa-Vicencio, but I do know several people with a similar background to his who would espouse similar sentiments. These are well meaning, good people who sincerely believe in what they are doing and who often display real Christian concerns, often at great personal cost. In fact, his comments in this interview struck me precisely because they made concrete the sort of attitudes that I often encounter and which I nevertheless find it difficult to pin down so that I sometimes wonder if I’m imagining things.
There are of course a cluster of ideas associated with such developments which I suspect have deeper roots in the development of western theology. Thus we find a reaction to “institutional religion” which points to a total loss of consciousness of the Mystery of the Church which is reduced to simply being an institution. (In fairness to Protestants, I have also found this attitude among Catholics and suspect that it is rooted in the transformation of western understandings of the Church in the second millennium). And, allied to this, we find a rejection of dogma in favour of “openness” and a refusal to draw boundaries (something that I hope to return to again). At which point I suppose that one does have to start asking whether this whole phenomenon can really be considered Christian.
However, what has sometimes struck me in such discussions is the appeal that some make to apophatic theology that is reflected in Villa-Vicencio’s comment about theological arrogance. I remember being in a WCC meeting where Protestant theologians responded to Orthodox concerns about their use of gender-inclusive language for God on the basis that “we cannot know what God is.” At a superficial level apophaticism can simply lead to a speculative nihilism or to an “anything goes” approach, and Villa-Vicencio is certainly not the first whom I have heard invoking it in such a way as to lead to outright relativism. But such an appeal to “the apophatic tradition” is all-too-often unaware of the dogmatic rootedness of this “tradition.”
I was struck by this while reading Jaroslav Pelikan’s introduction to the Selected Writings of Saint Maximus the Confessor. For Maximus, as I dare say for other Fathers, our supreme ignorance of God is combined with a comprehensive knowledge of Him which is made possible through the Incarnation of Christ.
“Who knows,” Maximus asked, “how God is made flesh and yet remains God?” And he answered his own question: “This only faith understands, adoring the Logos in silence.” It was, then, a genuine understanding, but one that appropriately expressed itself “in silence” rather than in words. Not even the words of the orthodox dogma, for which Maximus contended and suffered all his life, could adequately encompass the mystery of faith. “Theological mystagogy” transcended the dogmas formulated by the councils of the Church. A spirituality shaped by Orthodox apophaticism, therefore, was one that gratefully acknowledged those dogmas and was ready to defend them to the death against those who sought to distort them, but that, at the same time, willingly – in fact, worshipfully – acknowledged the limitations that had been placed on all knowledge and all affirmation, be it human or angelic. (9)
In Orthodox theology, apophaticism cannot be separated either from dogma or from worship which are so closely intertwined as to form one whole. I once commented on the irony that it is those traditions, whether liturgical, iconographic or theological, that pay most attention to correct detail, that are best able to lead us beyond the limitations of human expression.
Indeed, it is the uniting of the polarity between knowing and unknowing that is the heart of faith, and those who insist on the limitation of human language to speak of God, are the first to lay down their lives to defend its expressions. For faith has a name, and a concrete history. It is the revelation of God in Christ and His continued presence in His Body the Church.
December 9, 2010 at 10:09 pm
Have you read Fr Louth’s Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition (2nd ed.)? The newer edition includes a valuable afterword in which Fr Louth reevaluates the book itself. He deals with many of the issues you describe, of course. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The book itself was almost immediately recognized as a classic, and many of the “spiritual not religious” took to it, yet were put off by Fr Louth’s reevaluating Afterword in the new edition. Make sure you get a copy of the newer edition which includes it.
Apophaticism lies at the root of dogma itself, when it is properly understood as defining faith and practice in such a way as to preclude heretical faith and practice: dogma necessarily defines the improper through defining the proper. This is the historical genesis of nearly all of dogma, the fight against heresy, and the explicit framing of confessions of faith against such. Dogma is thus at root a definition of what the faith is not, as often expressed positively as negatively. It is the revealed and necessary rationalistic expression of the faith for rational creatures, designed to guide them in correct ratiocination, as opposed to the (corrupted and fallen) ratiocination that cannot exceed its own bounds, and which otherwise continually fails in its attempts to conceive and express the inconceivable and inexpressible. Without the guidance of the dogma of the Church, ultimately revealed to us by God, there can be no true understanding of the human condition, none at all. Dogma is revelation and therefore itself is “mystical” (in that those things which are revealed are exactly mysteria) and is “spiritual” in that it is through God the Holy Spirit that these things have been made known to us.
Most of the above is covered by Fr Louth. It’s a mix of what I’ve picked up along the way, though.
December 10, 2010 at 5:29 am
Yes, indeed, Kevin. I blogged on it here, raved about it to anyone who would listen (and many who would not) and have sent copies to various people. In fact, come to think of it, I think that it was a quote on your blog (long ago) that first made me aware of it.
As I keep saying, it is a very important essay, whose importance seems to be lost on many people. In many ways it’s a pity that it wasn’t published separately as I don’t know how many people are going to be prepared to buy a book (the original of which they may already have) simply for the afterword.
December 10, 2010 at 9:54 pm
There we go! I thought you had written on it and that we’d discussed it at one point, but when I searched your site, couldn’t find those posts. I probably mistyped.
(By the way, I’m reading the Eucharistic Ontology book by Fr Loudovikos. You’re really going to enjoy it.)
December 11, 2010 at 9:53 am
Well said!
I have long felt much the same way about “spirituality” — that it is an elusive, slippery concept, and I’d rather not use the word. But then I think of the Russian “dushevnost”, and wonder how it can be translated.
December 11, 2010 at 10:19 am
Problems with “spirituality” and “apophatic theology”…
A few months ago I wrote that I felt uneasy when people talk about “spirituality”, and “being spiritual but not religious”. Not that I think “being religious” is a good thing, but I do think that making a verbal sepa…
December 14, 2010 at 7:10 pm
Here I am with you from beginning to end!!
I remember vividly an experience in a secular Carmelite community. I had been clothed in Carmel and was in my second year of formation as an aspirant.
The community was meeting and the leader of the community looked at us and said “I don’t care if it is Catholic or not, I only care whether or not it is of Carmel.” and without stopping to think of the consequences I quietly said “If it is NOT Catholic then by definition it cannot be “of Carmel”…Later, I was refused at the door of first promises and those words were sent back to haunt me as a sign of my own “disobedience” and “unfitness” for a vocation in Carmel.
That must be fought wherever it is found regardless the cost…I believe.
M.
December 15, 2010 at 7:06 pm
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