The Importance of Worship Without Expectations (Going To Church Series)

One of the ways to misunderstand worship is to come to worship for a purpose. It is easy to say about worship: I'm coming to be re-filled for a new week; I'm coming because I love hymns (or whatever kind of song); I'm coming to receive the sacrament (celebrated in a certain form, whether traditional or not, catholic or protestant); etc. When we do this, no matter how laudable the reason, we are worshiping for a reason other than what worship is for. Worship is to give thanks, to be open to God, not coming with our agenda. When we do come with an agenda we run the risk of manipulating God and indulging in magic. This is hard because we have all had the experience of worship that is badly done, lacking content and style, or even if spoken in our native tongue, it still seems to be alien to us. So we are tempted to think that what we should do is seek out what we want in worship. I am, of course, sympathetic to this because it has, for one thing, made churches more responsive to people if they wish to survive and flourish. And this has been a blessing to traditional churches, even though some may die because they won't/can't move. But, and this is a very large caveat, the danger is merely magnified when we go to worship with a particular outcome in mind.

Why do I say this? Let's think a bit more about magic. Magic is the use of a formulaic set of words and actions to bring about a certain outcome; manipulation of whatever the 'magic' is being used on. If you come to worship with a certain outcome in mind (whether it be how you should feel, what you should receive/get out of it, the content, the spiritual nourishment) aren't you doing magic? The minister, musicians or preacher become the magicians for you to get what you want from God.

What's the alternative? A couple of places to start. First, let's not pre-decide what we should receive from worship or how we should feel. Maybe your expectations are wrong. Maybe the conversion the gospel asks of us is exactly directed at our expectations of God. Second, come to worship to give thanks for all the graces in life, especially the grace of Christ and the Spirit. What we receive that day, if we come to worship without expectation, can be received as gift, further grace in our lives. this means that, instead of preconceived expectations of what God/worship should do or be like, let us approach worship with the expectation that God will indeed be present (even, at times in an apparent absence or dryness), but not necessarily as we would like.

The Dragon of Grandiosity (Part 2)

Continuing on from yesterday's post, unregulated grandiosity is a disaster relationally. The real person you are relating to will intrude into your grandiosity. They might not worship you, or then again might not want you to be their slave, and our grandiosity won't like that at all. However, the best location to deal with grandiosity is to relate to others, so that where we can find healing for our grandiosity is exactly that place where we can be undone by it. There is nowhere else to go to be healed other than relating to real people (and a real God, but more on that later).

No one is ever fully healed of grandiosity. It must be confronted and worked with, intelligently. Relating to real people is essential, as are two other techniques. We need to keep in contact with our real humanity, which includes particularly what the Christian tradition calls our sin. We are not the centre of the universe. The other tool is prayer. Prayer enables us to direct our own spiritual energies, and those we receive from others, onto the one who is able to carry it, namely God. These two techniques of connection with our sin and prayer are important especially for those leadership professions where people transfer their individual grandiosity onto the leader. For example, teachers, priests, politicians,and counsellors are all susceptible to this transferred grandiosity, and it can be disastrous. Look how much ego there is in politics, secular or ecclesiastical, for example. It also goes part of the way to explain the moral failure in these professions. When a priest, politician or counsellor has an extra-marital affair, Moore is suggesting that it is, at least partly, an attempt to ameliorate excessive grandiosity by human failure. (There's a better way to do it, of course.)

Facing the Dragon is an important book, and while the Jungian language can get a bit too much at times, it is worth it for the deep insights into being human.

Some quotes:

When we consciously face our hidden superiority complex, our preening sense of entitlement, enlightenment, and self-righteousness, then we can escape our delusional claim to be helpless victims and our anxieties mysteriously begin to diminish. (p. 207)

Spiritually speaking, you don't ask, "Am I a sinner?" You ask, "How am I a sinner?" So psychologically speaking, you shouldn't ask, "Am I carrying any narcissistic pathology?" You should ask, "Where is my narcissistic pathology? How am I acting it out? Where is my continuing residual unconscious, unregulated grandiosity possessing me and destroying my relationships?" (p. 147)

I love to teach comparative psychotherapy , because all therapies are trying to help you do that same type of thing, to be more realistic, to be less totalistic in your claims, to do less exaggerating, to do fewer behaviors based on some sense of entitlement or special exemptions, and help the individual to face limitations. All therapies tend to address these issues in some form or another. (p. 144)

Sometimes people think if they just prayed enough, or went to enough masses, then their grandiosity would stop being seductive. Or if they became a cardinal, or a bishop, or a mother superior, it would not be seductive anymore. The truth, or course, is just the opposite, because the more successful you get, the more seductive grandiosity gets. The more traumas and tragedies you have in your life, the more grandiosity will attack you. It can tell you how impressive it is that you are still alive, or it can chide you into depression by suggesting you might as well go ahead and commit suicide. Many suicidal thoughts come from a grandiose perfectionism. (p. 136)

(On the need to pray if you are in a profession of archetypal transference of grandiosity from others onto you, e.g. priest, politician, teacher)
If you are in one of those helping professions where you get a lot of archetypal transferences, you do not pray because it is pious or sweet or nice ... You pray to stay alive, to get help in dealing with your grandiosity... You can take that energy that is coming toward you and, through your prayer, pass it on. "Here," you say, "this is really yours, Lord. Take it. It belongs to you." (p. 95. See also p. 93.)

The Dragon of Grandiosity (Part 1)

I have just read an excellent book by Robert Moore entitled Facing the Dragon. Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosity. He comes out of a Jungian tradition so you have to be able to work with the archetype theory of the Jungians. I have to admit being a little sceptical about it, although given the utility of the archetypes in a book like this, I could be persuaded to give it a great deal more respect. Made in the image of God we have such energy for life, but universally, it is distorted into grandiosity, thinking we are the centre of everything and the universe needs to bow down to us. This grandiosity shows itself in pride, but it can also show itself in all sorts of ways, including vanity, jealousy, lack of self-esteem and depression. These last two are interesting because we would associate them with the opposite of grandiosity. But Moore says that behind every disintegration of a sense of self is a prior extolling of the self. It's just that some recognise they can't live up to the grandiosity, so end up hating themselves or depressed at their failure. I approach this kind of claim with caution given that the 'presenting problem' is a deflation of self, and the feminist critique of universalising male sin onto women as well. However, it does make a good deal of sense. another example he gives is our dislike of criticism. Most might see this a a lack of self, producing a fragility that is easily shattered. Possibly, but it might also indicate that we don't like people who won't worship us. (archetypally we want people to worship our little king or queen within us. Sounds corny, but there is something in the idea. See p. 146) The tradition is quite strong on this too, and although the feminist critique would say that the tradition is strong on pride because it is a male sin, it can't be that easily dismissed. Grandiosity is hardly restricted to me. so in the Christian tradition despair is a sin of self-centredness: what, you are so beyond help that even God can't help you? Yeah, right, and you're not stuck in grandiosity either.

Anyway, Moore's contention is that unless we are consciously aware of this spiritual energy to greatness, work with it, confront it and harness it (at times), we will be in the thrall of evil. Moore takes seriously the human propensity to evil, and he says that not to do so is to be blind to both history and what we do to each other in our daily lives. So "(w)e either identify with this inner complex of grandiose energies, or we repress it and project it onto others." (201) When we identify with the energy of grandiosity, we inflate the self; when we project our grandiosity we become slaves to others, or demonise them. (A nation can project their grandiosity onto a leader, and demonise another group at the same time. The Fuhrer and the Final Solution come to mind.) Tribal grandiosity displaced the grandiosity from the individual to the group, preventing the individual psychosis that extreme grandiosity can produce. This was fine for the individual while my tribe rarely met any other tribe. But as human 'tribes' (ethnic groups, religions, etc) were forced to live closer and closer together, so tribal grandiosity slipped into demonization of the other tribes. (This demonization is everywhere still. Think of the continuing history of intra-european demonization we saw in Bosnia, or the conflicts in sub-Saharan Africa.)

Using 'They' As A Singular Pronoun

Some criticize those of us who use 'they' as a singular pronoun because it is allegedly grammatically incorrect. I have to admit not really minding if it is grammatically incorrect because it is for a far greater cause (rather than using 'he' all the time when reading the Bible for example). It seems, however, that using 'they' as a singular pronoun isn't without its precedents.

Becoming a Decent Human Being

This is good on not forgetting to become a decent human being (and stop talking incessantly about working on your relationship with God.)

Why Do We Discriminate Against the Re-Marrying Divorced?

Why do we discriminate against the divorced when they wish to remarry? In this diocese divorced people wishing to be remarried in the church must fulfill a specific set of criteria. One relates to the divorced person fulfilling all responsibilities, and working through any outstanding issues, from the previous marriage. The other requirements are that the couple connect themselves to an Anglican faith community, and must be referred to Anglicare for counselling. The Archbishop must give his approval before the priest in question can participate in the wedding. The stated reason why these criteria are mandatory is because of the higher rate of breakdown in second and subsequent marriages. (I wouldn't mind seeing the latest statistics, but seemed unable to dig them up on the internet.)

The problem is that we make it compulsory and we do not do so for first marriages. The rate of breakdown of first marriages is alarming in itself, and if we add into it the breakdown of live-in relationships prior to first marriages I wonder if there is any real distinction to be made. For consistency we should make similar criteria for first marriages, or else make the criteria suggestions for the clergy to consider when doing their pastoral work.

So why discriminate? I suspect it has something to do with a lingering, visceral discomfort about the remarriage of divorced persons.

Love Your Neighbour

I know you think you should make a trip to Calcutta, but I strongly advise you to save your airfare and spend it on the poor in your own country. It's easy to love people far away. It's not always easy to love those who live right next to us. Mother Teresa

God's Call

I'm doing a preaching series on God's call to each of us. In the first installment my major point was that the tendency in humankind is to live a karaoke life, singing the tune of someone else. And why not? It is familiar, we know it works, to some extent at least. And whether the karaoke life be an explicit parroting of another song, or whether it merely be a reaction to someone else's song, it is still someone else's song. Contrary to this, God has given each of us a particular task or contribution for the world, corresponding to our unique personhood. To find this unique task will take all our passion and gifts, and bring with it joy and sorrow.

To talk about this I used three readings taken from Francis Dewar, Invitations: God's Calling for Everyone (an excellent book):

Reading 1

God says to each one of us; “Come, I have a special task for you to do, something that you were born for, that will bring you untold fulfilment, through which others also may be freed or enriched or enlivened."

Reading 2

Jesus said, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is wide and easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it."

Reading 3

On his death bed Rabbi Zuscha was asked what he thought life beyond the grave would be like. The old man thought for a long time, then he replied: ’I don’t really know. But one thing I do know, when I get to there I am not going to be asked ‘Why weren’t you Moses?’ or “Why weren’t you King David?” I am going to be asked, “Why weren’t you Zuscha?"

Christianity Without The Baloney

A guest post from the Revd Ron Keynes.

I have become increasingly cynical about all the letters to editors from atheists and others who charge Christians with being superstitious. Whilst there may well be some who fit into that category, the ratio pf Christians must be similar or rather less than the ordinary population. Look at any popular magazine - even newspaper – to see how much information there is offered about horoscopes and suchlike silliness.

The real question comes down to the matter of what is the focus of Hebrew-Christian Faith? And the answer dissolves the antagonists’ challenge. The fascinating reality of the Faith is that it emerged over millennia from observations of life, experience and relationships. And the stories that are evident, especially in the Old Testament, are designed, not for people to believe in, but rather to understand what is being offered to see if it does not match their own experience. It is hardly even religion! It is certainly not superstition. It is contextual and experiential.

So what were the issues being questioned by those old Creation Stories. Stemming from the observation that life was meant to be creative and worthwhile, that there could only be one God, not mobs, was the reality that rather too often, the opposite is the case. Life can be brutal and hurtful. And the question is ‘from whence comes such hurt?’ The stunning answer that the old story-tellers/ prophets came up with is that humans are the ones responsible. Not for all the mess, but a pretty solid proportion of it. The Adam and Eve thing. Here is no history lesson, but a description of what tends to go on inside of me when I determine to be boss of the universe, or even a small part of it. ‘You shall be like gods’ is the challenge, and sin – if you can face that ‘religious’ word, - consists of my (and your!) capacity to determine to make you fit my pattern. That first generation of the story was followed up by the Cain and Abel saga – if I go far enough I will eliminate you from the scene and cover up my destruction of you.

So what does this ancient Hebrew-Christian Faith go on to develop? Do not get led astray by the old stories of mayhem and destruction said to have been ordered by God. Like scientific evolution, this understanding of life and its vicissitudes had – and still does have – numbers of ups and downs as the truth is searched for. (I have long wondered why so many Christians still seem to have difficulty with evolution, as each and every one of us has moved on from where they were as two little specks of nothing that met at the right time in the right place. Even physically and intellectually, I am not what I once was – and if, very sadly, - I happen to have remained at an undeveloped state, that is tragedy and not the way it should be.)

Search the Scriptures and see how much of the faith has nothing to do with ‘believing,’ – and certainly nothing to do with believing the incredible. It has everything to do with such ancient and invariable matters as justice and truth and integrity. Read those old prophets of the Jewish faith, and listen to their drum. In fact, both Old Testament and New Testament prophets – John’s Revelation in particular – have nothing to do with ‘end of the world’ scenarios, and everything to do with the challenge to live in service of others, fairness to others, compassion for others. And Guess Who was just as strong hot on the subject – and even more so. Not only did Jesus talk about such an approach to life, He lived it, at great cost to Himself. So when I put me before you, then I am denying the most significant faith in the world. And there is not a lot of religion in that! It has far more to do with being what we Aussies call ‘fair dinkum.’

The real irony for me is that in friendly debates with some strong atheists I have encountered over the years – and there have been quite a few – is that when we get down to the nitty-gritty and I point out the issues above, they have been rather surprised to find that we have been on somewhat the same side. The fact that there have been both past and recent incidents of Christian adherents failing in their loyalty and truth simply underlines the Biblical emphasis on the capacity of we humans to collapse under the strain of being faithful. On that, none of us are immune.

New Age Spirituality

This is great on new age spirituality.

Domesticating The Crucified III: Making the Cross Our Own

This is going to sound wrong, but it is dangerous to make the cross our own. There is a sense in which it is essential to be united with the crucified Christ: we can reflect on it, mystically enter into it, and physically follow the crucified Christ. But this also has the effect of making the cross less uncomfortable, even when our embrace of it leads us into suffering. We imitate and emulate and participate and the raw shock of the crucified God can dissolve. That God becomes human and is given over completely to powerlessness in the face of evil and is lifted into the finality of death is truly shocking. The desertion of Jesus is abhorrent to religion, our sense of justice and to the image of God that we use to protect us from the rawness of life. The resurrection to new life does not diminish the repugnance of the cross, but makes it even more frightening: life comes through abandonment and the giving over to death. (Not just seeming abandonment.)

Domesticating The Crucified II: Believing In The Crucified

It is ironic that those who love Jesus are so prone to domesticate his cross. The previous post indicated that one way we do this is to use the resurrection as a way of blunting the the raw offense of the cross. Funny little theories of atonement also have the same effect. One of the problems with the theories is that they legislate beforehand how we should understand the cross, and they do this to help us understand it. Legislating how to understand the cross restricts what God is allowed to do. The cross of Jesus does not fit our accepted understanding of God and God's action. Second, in helping us understand the cross the theories run the risk of domesticating it and the God of the cross. Understandability is not something we should easily be able to attach to the cross of Jesus.

Domesticating The Crucified I: Let Jesus Die

The gospel story is incredible. God dies, and we don't come round to this easily. We (Christians) have had all sorts of ways to shield us from the bare fact of the story, namely, God's union with a corpse. A favoured heretical device is to split the union of human and divine in Jesus to shield divinity from the ignominy of human death. Another device is to dim the divinity of Jesus ever so slightly so that it is not true divinity that is united with a corpse. As common as the above devices is the more common of using the resurrection of Jesus to save him from death. Of course, only a few extremists think that Jesus didn't die, and the whole point of the resurrection is that it is the resurrection of someone who died. But the resurrection can be used to blunt the raw shock, incredulity and offense of the cross. How dare God let Jesus die! Oh, it's OK, God resurrected Jesus later! The shock and impossibility of Jesus' actual death is blunted in this way by the resurrection. The resurrection is not meant to relieve us of the shock of the crucifixion and death of God. On the contrary it merely reinforces the importance of the identity of the crucified Jesus and challenges our pre-existing notions of God. In Christ God is given over to the finality of death for our sake. God did that? God does that? What kind of God is this? Atheism is an understandable response to the cross of Jesus. Faith in the crucified-risen Jesus is not a reinforcement of the God of ordinary religion, but is the product of conforming our understanding and expectations to the narrative of cross and resurrection, not the other way around.

Anglican Covenant

I am one of those unsure of the worth of the proposed Anglican Covenant. In practical terms I have thought it would not make much difference because those who don't want to be part of it won't be. So we would have those Anglicans who are part of it (who think certain things about sex), and those who don't. Big deal. But a recent letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, has made a (as usual) sensible contribution toward seeing its theological basis and practical utility. The covenant, if it comes into existence, will not necessarily be a new structure of separating the impure from the pure (I have my doubts on this though), but separate the Communion into two ways of being Anglican. The first way will be the 'covenanters', those who think that certain local level initiatives must be authorised on a Communion-wide level (or even wider). And there will be those who believe that local practice and pastoral need, and perhaps prophetic insight, overrides the absolute need for Communion-wide agreement. So two ways of being Anglican. I would contend that the second way of being Anglican is absolutely critical for our life together, for without this kind of prophetic voice churches descend into ordinary religion. So I would prefer not to separate the two ways of being Anglican.

My first intuition regarding the covenant was that it would have no practical effect. But the Archbishop has suggested a direction it might lead. Those parts of the existing Communion that choose not to join the covenant would not/should not represent the wider Communion in ecumenical gatherings because they are not representative of the whole. I can see the argument, although I wonder if we are making it all up as we go along given the existing variety within Anglicanism around the globe now. Moreover, representativeness requires a certain sensitivity to the whole, a whole that transcends any single person's particular beliefs or stance. So it seems a bit arbitrary to exclude those who don't sign up to the covenant. After all, those who don't sign the covenant will not be rejecting everything Anglican or Christian, but will remain Anglican according to the Archbishop, and with a suitable sensitivity to the whole, could represent all of us.

Publicizing the Personal: Reversing the Sacramental

What are we to make of the publication of the personal in our culture? The latest is the 14 year old girl who took a lie detector test on air and was reduced to tears after a harrowing admission. But we can also think of (alleged) reality TV like 'Big Brother', or the media personalities who make confessions on national TV, or the truly bizarre website named 'sextube' where it appears that people post their own home-made sex footage. (I guess the pornographers are represented on the site also.) Why do ordinary people do this kind of thing? And why do ordinary people view it, listen to it, and follow it? Apart from the critique we could offer from a psychological, sociological and theological perspective regarding voyeurism, and that in our society this kind of thing can re/launch a media career, there is something sacramental about all this. Or should I say a godless sacramentality-in-reverse. Sacraments are an outward expression of an inward grace from God, and confession (and absolution) is a sacrament. (So is sex.) But the publication of the personal (like in a TV confession) often includes what should be sacramental, but is not a grace from God, and not intended to be so. What should be carried out in a sacramental context is turned around, so that those who should be the recipients of grace (e.g. the penitent) become the purveyors, directing something they think worthwhile to their audience, or perhaps trying to receive something from the audience (perhaps adulation or understanding). And what exactly is being communicated? Whatever it is it isn't God's gift. I suspect it is something much more perverse, and most definitely spiritually dangerous and reflective of the vacuity when God is removed from the centre of human life and action.

Envy (vs Gratitude)

It is easy to be jealous or envious of another. And we can be envious of just about anything: possessions, spouse, children, career, coiffure, "luck". Is there anything wrong with a little envy? It's natural, isn't it? Well, on that last point, it is to be expected given the way we experience human nature currently. On the former point, yes, there is something wrong with a little envy, and for two reasons (at least). First, it is the nature of sin to grow in us and, potentially, rule our lives. This is particularly so with a human reality like envy. We can end up filled by it and its cousins jealousy and covetousness. And the door is wide open then to malice and bitterness. The second reason why even a little envy is best avoided is what we miss out on while we are envious. Life! Instead of living one's own life, envy leads us to someone else's. The antidote? Gratitude. The grateful person is centred on their own life, and is able to look for the gifts in their life, exploring, affirming, living, even when they aspire to improve their life and become more fully human.

But grateful to whom? It is not enough to be just aware of the good things in your life. This is good, but not enough to keep envy at bay. One of the benefits of faith is that we can be grateful because we have someone to be grateful to, namely God.

And We Were On Top Of The Pile

I hoped it seemed so obvious before you read the last 2 posts here and here) that the doctrines of the Incarnation and the Trinity are Hellenistic expressions of political compromise and autocratic power. And just in case you are not quite at the point of wondering if you were a bit too hasty in your easy rejection of the doctrines on this basis, how to explain the doctrine of the Incarnation when Christianity was in the political and cultural ascendancy within the Roman Empire? The doctrine of the Incarnation is the major expression of the Christian God of lowliness and humility. If the doctrine of the Incarnation is merely an expression of political power and the church's capitulation to it, why continue with a doctrine that so clearly unites the way of God and the way of the cross? It makes no sense. What makes sense is that the doctrine of the Incarnation is the doctrinal expression of the story of the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, and perhaps despite, and sometimes through, the process of doctrinal formulation, with all its problems, the gospel was held against temptations to the contrary.