Some Kind of Wonder-full…

Signposts (Chapter 9)

Where did I go from here? After this death, this giving up of a “label”, of a set of beliefs and way of life I had clung to for so long. From the link between religion and morality, a fear sprang up – and this was compounded by the fears of my family who were aware of my journeys every step up to this point – that I would “go off the rails.” But this did not come true – men and women do not need religion to dictate to them what is right and what is wrong. The Holy Spirit (or our conscience) prompts and guides us at every step.

Moreover, rather than feeling the loss of something (my religion), I felt freed from the chains of fear that had bound me. Somehow, the theology of being weak, but for Christ’s strength, had led to a severe lack of confidence in my own abilities to face the world. Whilst I believe there is a tension here – whilst I believe that the Holy Spirit is at work in all things for the good – I believe that the seeds of the Kingdom of God (or of Dharma) are planted within our hearts, giving us all the resources we need to live life in all its fullness if we but tap into them. The way we “tap into them” is what I am exploring and discovering now.

It is not found in following a set of rules, or relying of the divinity of someone greater than you. It lies it practicing spiritual disciplines that allow these good “seeds” to come to the surface of our personality. What spiritual disciplines? Meditation, stillness and silence. Also, the “electricity” that allows us to tap into, and connect with these “seeds” is that of the Divine Holy Spirit. Some people call this ki, some chi, some prana: I believe they’re all one and the same. The Holy Spirit is the breath of God and, as we learn to be inspired by it, we connect with an energy that is bigger than the individual. We become part of an everlasting creative flow, uniting in oneness with the Divine. The duality between Divine and Human then ceases to exist, so that, in a sense we become Divine, but equally, we become more Human. “The glory of God is man fully alive.” This, I believe is the mystery of Jesus: he learnt how to become one in union with the Divine flow, and so, was both Man and God. That same discovery is open to all of us, though we may not achieve it within a lifetime. It is the journey that counts, however.

How do these ideas play themselves out in my spiritual existence? As once I “explored” within the church, I am – as a natural progression – exploring outside of its boundaries. Putting my hand into the hand of God, stepping out into the darkness of the unknown, the infinite abyss, with a sense of wonder and openess. I have found silence in Quakerism and joined other meditators at the World Community for Christian Mediation. I am exploring the breath, and the experience of mind-body unity (the psycho-physical), through Shorinji Kempo, Ashtanga Yoga and the Alexander Technique.

All are offering their insights. Wisdom is everywhere and I can learn from many, listening to the journeys and experiences of friends and writers (such as Sue Monk Kidd, author of “The Dance of the Dissident Daughter,” who introduced me, or helped me to rediscover the Divine Feminine) alike. The work of the Holy Spirit is not confined to the Bible. God speaks through all things: prophetic pictures and dreams, the lines of poetry and song and Creation itself. There is so much that I do not “know” but I am eager to walk this path and discover the truths behind the mystery of existence. Truths that I perceive may be found in uniting science and religion, the physical and the spiritual. Truths that will be found in the physical body and in quantum physics. Well, these are my inklings as to the next stage. I dare you to join me and find out for yourself!

Signposts (Chapter 8)

I was shaky when I returned to Uni that Autumn. I did not know who I was or what I was rooted in. My identity had been so wrapped up in faith. Now I was uncertain of the one thing that had always been my security and my hope. I was beginning to learn that life is more complex than the neat answers of religion, and, it is all we can do to muddle through and live it.

Going to Hampstead Heath, I cried and poured out my heart to God, asking for assistance in dealing with my forbidden love. I felt an indescribable moment of peace and reassurance; a green light not to hold my heart back any longer. I realised, once and for all, that the Divine is so much bigger than the divides we put between religions. She works, despite religion, not because of it. Losing my religion (a label) was not the same as losing my faith, the everyday experience of the Divine. That could remain the thread that ties me together; I didn’t need the binding rope of religion.

Two things marked the final nails in the coffin of my “Christian” labelled religion.

Firstly, I moved in with a Christian landlady. There, I was bullied and criticised from day 1. Eventually, I could take no more. On handing in my notice, I was called the worst tenant she’d ever had, dirty and a psuedo-Christian. It was the perfect point of attack – that most important part of my armour – and it was therefore the most painful. But, in a sense, it gave me the impetus to walk away and become not a Christian at all.

Secondly, I shared in the sadness of my dear friends, the M’s (who had looked after me during Soul in the City when I was 18), as their eldest son, R., died at the end of a marathon, aged only 27 years old. It was a terrible shock for everyone. The funeral was packed with friends, Christian and non-Christian alike. There, his sister, C., sang a song by Lex Buckley “Heaven Rejoices”. It is difficult to describe the intensity of that moment, but somehow the Spirit of the Lord was very real and very present and everyone felt it. R. was one of the best of men. He did not have a Christian faith, but – like his brothers and sisters – campaigned tirelessly for justice and environment: in all his interactions, he lived out the values of the Kingdom of God. There is no doubt in my mind that, right now, he is with the Divine, in whatever shape or form that may be. I guess I realised, in that moment, that – as glib and cliched as it may sound – it really is all about Love. If the roots in your heart provoke you to act with Love, who cares whether those roots are Christian or Muslim or somewhat indefineable. What matters is how we live our lives. With the flow of Divine Love, or battling against it.

All I “know” intuitively is this:
-There exists Something More than what is visible to the naked eye. It may be called God; it may remain nameless.
-I believe this Something More is something good.

Apart from that, my theology is evolving as I experience that Something More, open to the Truth (and value) in every possibility.

Signposts (Chapter 7)

From Sri Lanka – already in a state of emotional exhaustion – I went on to volunteer at an inclusive Christian community in Northern Ireland: Corrymeela. “Inclusive” meant that all faith groups, political persuasions, genders and sexual orientations were welcomed with open and loving arms. There was no sense that the Christians there were somehow on the moral high ground looking down; rather, everyone was journeying together through the messiness and complexity of life. It was tolerant, open-minded, nonjudgmental. And it was a far cry from what I had previously experienced within the church.

A few months earlier, my love interest had asked me what I thought about homosexuality. I felt very unconfortable. I knew what I had been taught – that it was a sin, that marriage was God’s plan for us and that anything outside of that (including living together partnerships) was not the optimum path. There was the “right” way, which was the “best” way, and then there was everything else. What I had been taught, however, did not resonate with my sense of nonjudgment, of diversity and of moral equity. I didn’t know what to say, so I asked for a 6 month raincheck.

At Corrymeela, I came across a book by Bishop Spong, the Liberal Christian, entitled “Living in Sin.” The scales on my eyes were removed and I began to realise there were two “wings” – as it were – on the religious spectrum. On the right wing, religion – be it Christian or any other – was formed in order to mantain the staus quo: to maintain power in the hands of those at the top: heterosexual males. Inherently, then, religion was always going to be anti-feminist and anti-homosexual. Nonetheless, on the left wing of religious traditions, there lies the mystical path: the Sufi’s, the Desert Fathers, the meditators. The emphasis of the mystics was on personal spiritual experience and inner journey: moreover, unlike right wing religiosity, which creates division and war, the ideas of those on the left wing of their spiritual traditions – meditation, silence, stillness – seemed to converge at a unifying point. Oneness.

During Peace School, we had learnt about the theology of religious options. On the right wing of the spectrum were the “exclusivists”: church centred, believing in salvation through Christ alone and taking the Bible literally as God’s special revelation. In the middle, were the “inclusivists”. They see Christ at work in all faith traditions, believe that salvation – though through Christ – does not require explicit faith in him (think Carl Rahner’s “anonymous Christians”) and perceive special revelation in the Scriptures of other faith traditions. They do not take the Bible literally, and believe God reveals Truth through the power of the Holy Spirit. On the left wing, there is “pluralism”: Jesus is seen as an enlightened man, not divine, and salvation is available through all faith traditions or none. It is the movement from ego-centredness toward God or Zen centredness. The session leader asked us to stand on a line where we thought we were on this spectrum: I was on the borderline of Inclusivist and Pluralist, slowly falling off the edge. Everything came to a head at Corrymeela – physical illness betraying the inner turmoil, the fear and anguish I was feeling. My faith was the central pillar of my existence – for so long it had been my foundations and my anchor – what would happened if the rug was pulled out from beneath my feet. What, after all, was the difference between a liberal Christian and an enlightened Humanist?

Signposts (Chapter 6)

That year, I fell in love with a non-Christian. All my life, my faith, my relationship with the Divine, has been the absolute no. 1 priority. It has been the most important thing in my life. And because I had been taught that dating, loving and eventually marrying a non-Christian was akin to being “unequally yoked”, I had always been adamant that I would not be with someone who didn’t share my faith. Now, however, I was put to the test. I had to choose between what I perceived to be God’s will – my love for God – and my love for another human being.

It was THE most traumatic period of my life; I was ill physically as I felt my heart being torn in two. At church, there was a 24-7 prayer week, and I wrote up a heartfelt letter to God on the wall, crying out for relief. There was a phenomenal response with many anonymous readers telling me I needed to wait unitl he was “saved”. My perception, at the time, was that this was the wisdom of God advising me to let him go. In retrospect, however, I think the content of the responses was inevitable, given the church setting, and that it was more about God’s timing and the work that was being done within my heart.

I left for Sri Lanka that Summer. There, I tryed to let go and surrender to God’s will, whilst crying myself to sleep every night. Staying with a Buddhist family, I was interested in experiencing the Poya Day celebrations at the temple. It was a disappointment: the ritual has lost all its meaning, now – like Christmas in the UK – being an opportunity for traders to make money. Reading a book called “Living Buddha, Living Christ,” (by Thich Naht Hahn) I began to realise there were two forms of Buddhism. This one, where people worshipped and followed the Buddha, an enlightened man. And another one, where the emphasis was on becoming a Buddha and finding that enlightenment for yourself. Likewise, in mainstream Christianity, people worship and follow Jesus, a man who was full of the spirit. Nonetheless, in the Gospel of St Thomas, there is a thread of early Christianity, that is again, about finding enlightenment through your own individual journey, rather than just worshipping the people who managed to obtain it. Jesus is an inspiration, a signpost towards an enlightened way of living…