(This is an excerpt from my book published by the Review and Herald Publishing Association, Adventist Spirituality for Thinkers and Seekers: The Faith I Highly Recommend.)
So you are no longer foreigners and aliens but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household. Ephesians 2:19
I was twenty-two years old, headed from Memphis to Pacific Union College as a transfer student for my senior year. I had never been to the school and didn’t know a soul. I got off the plane in Oakland and waded into the sea of unknown faces in the terminal, looking for Uncle Ellsworth. I had met him only once before, when I was six years old, so I didn’t have the slightest idea what he looked like. But a tall man with a mane of white hair and a kindly face approached and greeted me tentatively. “John?”
Within seconds, I went from being a stranger lost in a crowded airport to a long-lost son coming home. Uncle Ellsworth and Aunt Bernice embraced me with warm affection. My cousin Jeanine proved a wonderful friend, offering sage “sister’s advice” regarding girls and dating. Aunt Bernice’s spaghetti on Friday night was the highlight of my weeks. Here in this new place among new people, I found myself at home because I was family.
Americans celebrate the individual. Our national stories honor individuals who have risen above their family of origin and through hard work and initiative have achieved individual greatness. Most of us know nothing of Ben Franklin’s family, or George Washington’s, for that matter. We are suspicious of political dynasties like the Kennedys or Bushes. We wonder if the younger members of the families have gotten into office because of family connections. And there is no compliment intended in the question. Some protest affirmative action because they believe it devalues individual achievement.
But in reality, personal identity is not created ex nihilo by individuals. It is given by family (either literal or figurative). Individuals make real choices and shape themselves through choices that become habits and character. But all of this activity of the will is at most a mere remodeling of identities given us by our families. Identity is a gift more than an achievement. This perspective is pervasive all through the Bible.
In the beginning, humanity’s identity was the gift of creation–we are created in the image of God. The story of the Jews celebrates the status they enjoyed as descendants of Abraham. The Bible highlights privileges that were theirs as members of the nation God had chosen quite apart from the character or characteristics of the individual (or even of the community at any one point in time, Deuteronomy 7:7). In the New Testament believers are not pictured as “saved individuals,” but as beloved members of the Holy Family, the household of God.
When the Old Testament affirms God’s regard for non-Jewish people, it does so by picturing them as honorary members of the Jewish community. Consider the stories of Rahab, Ruth, and Naaman (Matthew 1; 2 Kings 5) and the inclusive language of Psalm 87:
The Lord loves the gates of Zion . . .
And he has made her his home.
He says, ‘I will make her my home.
I will count Egypt and Babylon among my friends;
Philistine, Tyrian and Nubian will be there;
and Zion shall be called a mother
in whom men of every race are born.’
The Lord will write against each in the roll of the nations:
‘This one was born in her.’ From Psalm 87, NEB
Notice that Babylonians and Philistines, traditional enemies of the Jews, who receive the favor of the Lord are not honored as the noblest citizens of their respective lands. Instead they are received as honorary citizens of Jerusalem. They are reckoned as members of the earthly community which receives God’s favor.
This theme echoes through the New Testament as well. The story is told of an encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus, a tax collector in the city of Jericho. In that society, tax collectors had social standing of drug dealers in our society–envied for their wealth, despised for their wickedness. Because they worked with the Roman occupation forces, they were seen as traitorous collaborators and regarded as hopelessly corrupt.
Jesus invited himself to Zacchaeus’ house. At dinner, Zacchaeus announces he is giving away half his money to the poor and that he will repay anyone he has cheated four times what he stole. Jesus responds to this evidence of transformation by announcing,
Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost. Luke 19:9-10
Notice, Jesus describes Zacchaeus’ new status not in terms of his individual, personal connection with God, but in terms of his restoration to citizenship in the community of Abraham (a figure of speech for the people of God).
The Bible says very little about “me and God.” It’s emphasis is “we and God.” Salvation is not something that I achieve through the pursuit of personal holiness, it is the gift of inclusion in the holy community. The blessings enjoyed by a follower of Jesus are gifts to the new holy nation of the church. They are not given to holy individuals–except as those individuals are incorporated into the people of God.
The Book of Revelation brings this emphasis on community to a climax. In chapter three Jesus is pictured knocking at the door seeking to enjoy dinner with individuals (I will go in and eat with him and he with me). But more frequently the focus is on the people of God, gathered from “every tribe, nation, kindred people” whom Jesus has anointed as priests (Revelation 1). They form a heavenly chorus and “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.” They sit on thrones with their compatriots, judging and reigning forever (Revelation 5, 7, 20, 22). Salvation is enjoyed by the host of God’s people in corporate worship and reigning, not by individuals in private, one-on-one interaction with God.
The theme song of heaven is not “I Come to the Garden Alone” but “Shall We Gather at the River.”
This communal source of identity is celebrated in the central practices of the Christian church–baptism, communion, Sabbath-keeping. It is associated with most of the classic explications of the meaning of the crucifixion of Jesus. It has profound implications for our understanding of the church and is inseparable from our doctrine of God.
Historically, Adventists have seen ourselves as uniquely called to serve as God’s church at the end of time. This belief can be distorted into a cause for spiritual pride, but properly understood it highlights the essential role of community in the work of God. God is not looking for spiritual Lone Rangers to show up here and there and perform heroic deeds for the kingdom of heaven. Rather God is looking for people who are willing to participate in building a holy community, a society known for its faith, hope and love. The proper meaning of “church” is that spiritual life is something we build together. It is not something we achieve alone.
To those who are vividly aware of their inadequacies or failings, God offers the gift of membership in his household. You do not have to earn your place or prove your merit or fight your way in. To people who see themselves as foreigners and strangers, God gives the assurance that he has set a place for them at the family table. To those who hesitate to associate with the riffraff Jesus sometimes attracts, the reality of church offers a strong check on pride.
We readily recognize certain kinds of human ability as gifts–things like musical ability or high IQ. We have a harder time recognizing personal drive, motivation, moral and spiritual sensitivity as gifts. But God, in calling us to his table, reminds us that none of us arrived here by spontaneous generation. We were birthed and re-birthed. And all of our abilities were gifts before they became achievements. And all of our failings were first weaknesses and wounds that came to us apart from our will.
One of the crucial functions of the church is to actively welcome others into full participation in the life of the Holy Family. As the family of Jesus, the church is obliged to seek and save the lost. These “lost ones” may be crushed with feelings of inadequacy or swollen with self confidence, but they equally need the accountability and affirmation that comes from participation in the earthly family of God.
Our most precious identity is the one that is given to us irrespective of our accomplishment or demerit. The greatest benefits we receive come because of the resources of the family, not because of our own personal achievements. When we step off the plane, we are greeted by Uncle Ellsworth and taken home because we are family. And we will be welcomed into heaven because we are members of the household of God.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Friday, October 15, 2010
Nicer Than God?
In the email she said she didn't know who else to talk to, so I was elected. She was dealing with massively discombobulating news: her son had recently told her he was gay.
His homosexuality was not a total surprise, but neither had it been obvious before he opened his heart to her. She and her husband loved him. His sexual identity was not going to change that. He was still their son. She was not writing me for help in dealing with her son. Her mother's love gave adequate wisdom for that. She didn't need help persuading her husband—her son's step dad—to be kind. His father's heart was quite up to that. What she wanted to know was what to do about the lock on heaven's door.
Her son was welcome in their home. But according to the Bible and the church, God would not allow her son into heaven. She didn't put it this way, but what I heard was this: Mom and Dad were nicer than God. At least that the way she had been taught to understand the Bible.
So what should we do when it turns out we're nicer than God? Reexamine our faith.
“Who of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:9-11
“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Fatehr in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. . . . So you, be perfect as your father in heaven is perfect.” Matthew 5:44-48.
When we discover that our hearts are larger than God's heart according to the teaching of the church and even of the Bible, it's time to take another look. Maybe the church is wrong. Maybe the way we've been reading the Bible is wrong. Maybe we have focused on the wrong texts.
If being god-like means loving our enemies and praying for our persecutors, then certainly being god-like means loving people whose sexual identity is different from ours, even different from “normal.”
If one way we “become sons of our Father in heaven” is by loving our enemies just as he loves his enemies, then loving our homosexual children—accepting them as they are—cannot be an affront to God. Instead, it is one more way we act like our father in heaven.
If we, though we are evil, know that it would be evil to “cast out” our homosexual children, how much more certain is it that our Father in heaven—their Father in heaven—will not only refrain from casting them out, but will welcome them joyously into the eternal dwelling?
His homosexuality was not a total surprise, but neither had it been obvious before he opened his heart to her. She and her husband loved him. His sexual identity was not going to change that. He was still their son. She was not writing me for help in dealing with her son. Her mother's love gave adequate wisdom for that. She didn't need help persuading her husband—her son's step dad—to be kind. His father's heart was quite up to that. What she wanted to know was what to do about the lock on heaven's door.
Her son was welcome in their home. But according to the Bible and the church, God would not allow her son into heaven. She didn't put it this way, but what I heard was this: Mom and Dad were nicer than God. At least that the way she had been taught to understand the Bible.
So what should we do when it turns out we're nicer than God? Reexamine our faith.
“Who of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:9-11
“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Fatehr in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. . . . So you, be perfect as your father in heaven is perfect.” Matthew 5:44-48.
When we discover that our hearts are larger than God's heart according to the teaching of the church and even of the Bible, it's time to take another look. Maybe the church is wrong. Maybe the way we've been reading the Bible is wrong. Maybe we have focused on the wrong texts.
If being god-like means loving our enemies and praying for our persecutors, then certainly being god-like means loving people whose sexual identity is different from ours, even different from “normal.”
If one way we “become sons of our Father in heaven” is by loving our enemies just as he loves his enemies, then loving our homosexual children—accepting them as they are—cannot be an affront to God. Instead, it is one more way we act like our father in heaven.
If we, though we are evil, know that it would be evil to “cast out” our homosexual children, how much more certain is it that our Father in heaven—their Father in heaven—will not only refrain from casting them out, but will welcome them joyously into the eternal dwelling?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Science vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think
Science vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think by Elaine Howard Ecklund. Oxford University Press. 2010.
This book reports Ecklund's survey of the science faculty at several "elite universities."
A few things that strike me:
A significant minority of the science faculties at these elite schools were practicing Christians. I think the percentage of those who identified with a particular Christian denomination was in the low 30s.
Younger faculty were more likely to be theist than were older faculty. This was a surprise to the researcher and to me. Typically people do not change their stance as theist or atheist after their twenties. So these younger faculty are likely to remain theists as they get older and move into positions of greater prominence and security.
Unlike the situation in the general population where women are far more likely to be church connected than men, among the scientists there was no difference in male and female religious identification.
There is considerable hostility to religion among science faculty, especially to evangelical or fundamentalist Christianity. However, scientists who expressed hostility toward evangelical Christianity at the same time acknowledged respect for particular, identifiable colleagues who were evangelical, if they respected the scientific work of the colleague.
Of all religious groups, Jews were vastly overrepresented among scientists and evangelical Christians were dramatically underrepresented compared to percentages in the general population of America.
After describing conversations with a couple of scientists, she writes, “As with this sociologist and chemist, many of the scientists I talked with do not often think about what it might mean to be spiritual or whether spirituality is connected in any meaningful way to the work they do as scientists. . . . their definition[s] of religion and spirituality only arose during the actual interview. It was as though putting them in a context where they were asked about spirituality forced them to develop a definition for something that would have never concerned them otherwise.” p 54.
Duh! Spirituality, an outlook that sees the universe through the lenses of purpose, meaning, intention and relationship, is rooted in a radically different mentality, (and, my guess is, a distinct neural geography) than that which supports the analytical, critical functions crucial to the best scientific work. Scientists as a group would be less likely to have (or to have developed) the capacity for engagement with the universe in the realm of spirituality.
Scientists need the poets, prophets, artists, writers and preachers to enable them to perceive a different range in the spectrum of reality. Of course, these spiritual specialists need scientists to enable them to see and know things they could never learn through their art or piety.
Ecklund makes the point that many scientists who belong to religious communities “believe less” than others in those communities. The scientists belong to the communities, but know that they themselves do not personally believe all the things that many others in the community believe. This is in line with what I have observed in scientists who are Adventist. The way I would say it is that frequently the religious/spiritual convictions of scientists are more diffuse than would be characteristic of the average church member in any denomination.
“Of those surveyed, 31 percent who agreed or agreed strongly with the statement, 'I am a spiritual person' had not attended religious services in the past year.” This was true of 14 percent of the general population. P 56.
Of the scientists who call themselves spiritual, 22 percent also called themselves atheist. So theism was not a necessary part of being spiritual. Or to put it the other way round, just because someone is atheist does not mean he has no spiritual sensibilities or impulses. P 58
Engagement in any kind of spiritual practice—going to church, meditation, reading a sacred text—was correlated with a statistically significant higher level of volunteerism. Those read spiritual texts are 29 percent more likely to volunteer than are those who have no spiritual practice. P 64.
A number of times Ecklund writes that an important element of the mindset of scientists is a drive for coherence. They cannot deeply embrace a spirituality which is genuinely contradictory to their lives and work as scientists.
This book reports Ecklund's survey of the science faculty at several "elite universities."
A few things that strike me:
A significant minority of the science faculties at these elite schools were practicing Christians. I think the percentage of those who identified with a particular Christian denomination was in the low 30s.
Younger faculty were more likely to be theist than were older faculty. This was a surprise to the researcher and to me. Typically people do not change their stance as theist or atheist after their twenties. So these younger faculty are likely to remain theists as they get older and move into positions of greater prominence and security.
Unlike the situation in the general population where women are far more likely to be church connected than men, among the scientists there was no difference in male and female religious identification.
There is considerable hostility to religion among science faculty, especially to evangelical or fundamentalist Christianity. However, scientists who expressed hostility toward evangelical Christianity at the same time acknowledged respect for particular, identifiable colleagues who were evangelical, if they respected the scientific work of the colleague.
Of all religious groups, Jews were vastly overrepresented among scientists and evangelical Christians were dramatically underrepresented compared to percentages in the general population of America.
After describing conversations with a couple of scientists, she writes, “As with this sociologist and chemist, many of the scientists I talked with do not often think about what it might mean to be spiritual or whether spirituality is connected in any meaningful way to the work they do as scientists. . . . their definition[s] of religion and spirituality only arose during the actual interview. It was as though putting them in a context where they were asked about spirituality forced them to develop a definition for something that would have never concerned them otherwise.” p 54.
Duh! Spirituality, an outlook that sees the universe through the lenses of purpose, meaning, intention and relationship, is rooted in a radically different mentality, (and, my guess is, a distinct neural geography) than that which supports the analytical, critical functions crucial to the best scientific work. Scientists as a group would be less likely to have (or to have developed) the capacity for engagement with the universe in the realm of spirituality.
Scientists need the poets, prophets, artists, writers and preachers to enable them to perceive a different range in the spectrum of reality. Of course, these spiritual specialists need scientists to enable them to see and know things they could never learn through their art or piety.
Ecklund makes the point that many scientists who belong to religious communities “believe less” than others in those communities. The scientists belong to the communities, but know that they themselves do not personally believe all the things that many others in the community believe. This is in line with what I have observed in scientists who are Adventist. The way I would say it is that frequently the religious/spiritual convictions of scientists are more diffuse than would be characteristic of the average church member in any denomination.
“Of those surveyed, 31 percent who agreed or agreed strongly with the statement, 'I am a spiritual person' had not attended religious services in the past year.” This was true of 14 percent of the general population. P 56.
Of the scientists who call themselves spiritual, 22 percent also called themselves atheist. So theism was not a necessary part of being spiritual. Or to put it the other way round, just because someone is atheist does not mean he has no spiritual sensibilities or impulses. P 58
Engagement in any kind of spiritual practice—going to church, meditation, reading a sacred text—was correlated with a statistically significant higher level of volunteerism. Those read spiritual texts are 29 percent more likely to volunteer than are those who have no spiritual practice. P 64.
A number of times Ecklund writes that an important element of the mindset of scientists is a drive for coherence. They cannot deeply embrace a spirituality which is genuinely contradictory to their lives and work as scientists.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Fingerprints of God 2nd Discussion
A Synopsis of Barbara Bradley Hagerty's book, Fingerprints of God: The Search for the Science of Spirituality.
Hastily done. Excuse the egregious errors.
This synopsis served as the springboard for our conversation at the October 1, 2010, gathering of the Friends of St Thomas.
Barbara grew up Christian Scientist and “at age 34—with the exception of a vaccine before my family traveled to Europe—I had never visited the doctor, never taken a vitamin, never popped an aspirin, much less flu medicine.” Then in a moment of “weakness” tormented by the miseries of the flu, she took a single Tylenol which magically made her feel better. Within a couple of years she left Christian Science.
It was not only this experience of relief from flu misery through the agency of Tylenol that led to her change of religious identification.
She was in L. A. doing a story on Saddleback Community Church. She was visiting after the Saturday night service with a woman who had been battling cancer for years. Kathy's cancer had recently returned. Barbara asked Kathy, “How can you be so cheerful when you've got this awful disease?”
“It's Jesus,” Kathy said, “Jesus gives me peace.”
“A guy who lived two thousand years ago?” Barbara asked incredulously. “How can that be?”
“Jesus is as real to me as you,” Katy explained. “He's right here, right now.”
They continued talking. Then at some point that evening Barbara and Kathy together experienced a presence. Barbara writes, “The air grew warmer and heavier, as if someone had moved into the cirlces and was breathing on us. . . . Gradually, and ever so gently, I was engulfed by a presence I could feel but not touch. I was paralyzed. I could manage only shallow breaths. After a minute, although it seemed longer, the presence melted away. We sat quietly, while I waited for the earth to steady itself. I was too spooked to speak, and yet I was exhilarated, as the first time I skied down an expert slope, terrified and oddly happy that I could not turn back. Those few moments, the time ti takes to boil water for tea, reoriented my life. The episode left a mark on my psyche that I bear to this day.” p. 5.
Driven in part by her desire to “understand” her experience that night, Barbara began work on a book about spiritual experience. What do we make of the accounts of people who have been drug addicts for years, decades, then something touches them and they leave it all and become sober and functional. We do we make of the miracles accomplished by Christian Science practitioners?
One of Barbara's conclusions is given right up front: “After talking to countless scientists far more knowledgeable and insightful than I, I have concluded that science cannot prove God—but science is entirely consistent with God. It all depends on how you define 'God.'” p. 11
In chapter two, Barbara tells the stories several people who have had very different experiences with the divine, experiences that radically altered their lives. The first, Sophy Burnham, is now a grandmother. She began having mystical experiences when she was a child, with “definitive experience” occurring at Machu Pichu after she was married and had two teenage children. These experiences led her into a wide-ranging new agey kind of spiritual quest. One was a scientist whose life was disintegrating because of alcohol. Another was a grad student who began meditating (he was ethnically Indian). Still another was a teenager who was having significant behavioral problems. Still another was a Sufi.
Hagerty's point is two-fold: First people do have spiritual experiences. Not everyone. But most people. Secondly, while the experiences are not identical, there are some common elements in these experiences that appear to cross religious, ethnic, cultural boundaries. These common elements include personal transformation. After having such an experience, the person is different. Inescapably. Ineluctably. There is a cost: the loss of one's former life or identity.
In agreement with William James, she argues we can explore spirituality only if we agree to take seriously the accounts people give of their experiences. The subjective reporting of people is data. Sure, it's not the kind of data scientists are used to working with, but if we are going to study spirituality, we are going to have to give attention to the self-reporting of people who have had the experiences.
The title of this chapter is: The God who Breaks and Enters. These experiences are not available on a demand basis. These experiences happen to people. There are some things people can do to make it more likely for the experience to happen. But one cannot compel the experience.
Here I am reminded of the testimony of Steven Kotler in his book West of Jesus. He says that at one point in his life he pursuit the spiritual quest with great intensity. He mastered meditation, sitting for up to ten hours at a time. But “the vision” never came to him.
However, twice in widely disparate situations—different geography, different culture, different time—when he is nearly killed by the waves when surfing, but escapes, someone remarks to him, "It looks like the Conductor had his way with you."
We cannot command “break through” spiritual experiences. Neither can we perfectly secure ourselves against them. Paul on his way to Damascus wasn't looking for something new.
Chapter 3: The health effect of praying. (My title.) Studies on the effects of prayer are conflicting and inconclusive. The placebo effect is well-documented, illustrating the power of the mind to affect the body.
In chapter 4, Hagerty discusses “hitting bottom.” The essential prerequisite for a transformative spiritual experience is “brokenness.” I did not find it particularly illuminating. How do you schedule an episode of brokenness so you can have a transforming spiritual experience?
Chapter 5: Hunting for the God gene. Some interesting info, nothing ground shaking. Yes, there are genetic components that affect spirituality. Duh!!!!. Genetics affects everything—eyesight, hearing, touch, smell, IQ. Color blindness does not negate the reality of color. The reality of color does not somehow erase the fact that some people cannot perceive colors. Similarly, the fact that some people, including very articulate, learned scientists are oblivious to the divine or the numenous, that does not prove God does not exist. The reality that God does exist does not erase the fact that some people are insensible to God's reality and God's presence.
“Proof” that genetics plays a role in spirituality says almost nothing about the reality or non-reality of God.
Chapter 6. Drugs and spirituality. There are some interesting parallels between the experiences of people who use mushrooms religiously and the experiences of people who use other methods—like prayer, meditation, tongues-speaking—to enhance their openness to spirituality.
Chapter 7. Searching for the God spot.
One brain researcher theorizes that human sense of the divine originates in the right temporal lobe of the brain. This region is associated with epilepsy. And epilepsy is frequently associated with hyper religiosity. In some cases when a hyper religious person is treated medically for epilepsy, their religious zeal disappears.
It is possible to stimulate the right temporal lobe and evoke in a person a “Sensed Presence.” This Presence, according to Michael Persinger, is the source of spirituality in humans. Persinger is sure that all that happens in an encounter with God is that for some reason the right part of the brain is stimulated and one experiences a “Sensed Presence.” There is no actual presence in Persinger's view, merely the impression, the feeling, that there is.
Chapter 8. Spiritual virtuosos.
This chapter features the story of Scott McDermott, a Methodist pastor with a Ph. D. in New Testament. He heard about and was severely critical of the “Toronto Blessing” which was a Pentecostal revival that included people laughing uncontrollably and barking like dogs and doing other vocalizations.
He decided to check out the phenomenon first hand at a meeting led by the pastor of the Toronto Church. During this meeting, the Spirit came on McDermott and he experienced the Toronto blessing. It was a very dramatic, drawn out ecstatic experience. For an hour and a half he “ran” in place while lying on his back on the floor. As he was “running” he had visions of his journey from Jericho to Jerusalem.
Prior to this experience McDermott was already practicing a pretty intense spiritual life. He prayed for an hour or two a day. He was the pastor of a large Methodist Church and taught at a university. Still he never felt adequate. That changed during that marathon on the floor.
The Lord spoke to him. According to McDermott, when God spoke,
there was this indescribable love, it was beyond words, and it began to fill me. All that low self-esteem, all that sense of not being valued, began to melt in this love.
The change has been dramatic. I can't say I'm a perfect man as a result of this, or that every day I walk on cloud nine, but I will tell you this: Because of that, I know how much I'm loved by God. And When life gets hard—and life does get hard—God's love is there to see me through.”
After his mystical marathon, Scott said he was horrified that he had made himself such a spectacle. But the next day, he said, “People would ask, 'Why would you have an experience like that and not me?' And I don't have an answer to that one.”
The chapter talks about brain scans that have been done on people who are experts or at least highly practiced in different kinds of spiritual practice.
Franciscan nuns and Tibetan Buddhist monks had similar brain activity. Both reported having a sense of oneness or union with God or the universe. Scans showed these individuals' frontal lobes were highly active. “Think of the frontal lobes as the chief operating officer of the brain, one with accountant-like tendencies; it handles the details, helps plan and execute tasks, keeps you awake and alert and above all, focused.” p. 173.
At the same time the parietal loves of both of these groups appeared to become utterly inactive. One researcher calls the parietal lobes the “orientation area” because it orients you in space and time. The parietal lobes tell you where yournbody ends and the rest of the world begins. Which might explain the common experience associated with this kind of meditation: A feeling of oneness with the universe, the dissolution of self.
One of the common features Hagerty noticed in people who had experienced mystical states was their tendency to drop religious labels.
Brain scans of people speaking in tongues shows the frontal lobes completely shut down. The activity in the parietal lobes increased.
One common feature between the meditators and the charismatics was an asymmetry in the thalami (that's the plural of thalamus). In most people they are symmetrical. In all the spiritual virtuosos Newberg has studied they are markedly asymmetrical. (Andrew Newberg is associate professor of radiology in the department of radiology—with secondary appointments in psychiatry and religious studies—at the University of Pennsylvania. He has not identified an explanation for this asymmetry.
At the end of this chapter, Hagerty raises what I think is for her the ultimate question: What is the relationship of the mind to the brain. Is our mind a function of our brain? Or is the brain a tool of the mind?
For Hagerty, if the mind is a function of the brain, if the mind has no separable existence from the brain, then this would mean the triumph of materialism. There is nothing more than what can be accounted for by the currently known laws of physics.
As a Christian materialist (which is what I call the Adventist position on body-soul unity), it seems to me quite possible to conceive of the mind as an emergent property of the brain. Mental function is more than merely the addition of all the particular functions of neurons and other brain tissue, but mental function cannot be separated from brain tissue.
An analogy: There is on way you can learn anything meaningful about the software running on a computer by a chemical or physical analysis of the hardware of the computer. But the software is inseparable from the hardware.
You would never “see” a Bach concerto in a piano. No matter how finely you analyzed the mechanics or composition of the mechanism. But the music is inseparable from the piano . . . or lute or violin or flute or orchestra. The music cannot play itself. The music does not make the piano, the piano makes the music. But the music is more (or at least “other”) than the piano.
It is helpful to keep the concepts of mind and brain distinct. They are labels for different realities. But the different realities are not separable.
At least that's my view.
It's a view that Hagerty is clearly contending against in chapter 9, Out of My Body or out of My Mind?This chapter explores out of body experiences. The most well-evidence conclusion from various studies on out of body experiences is that many (most? all?) of the people who have had them are changed. And the changes are perceived by the people themselves and usually by others around them as positive changes. People who have had these experiences become less judgmental, more global, more compassionate.
Hagerty interviews people who are researching out-of-body experiences. A couple of avenues of research are evaluating the descriptions given by people who report floating up over the operating table when they've clinically died on the table. Do their descriptions match was actually happening? Could they know what they are describing from some other source than being an eye-witness of their own situation? Hagerty reports stories that appear to support the idea of a people actually observing from a point above the operating table. She also reports the failure (so far) of an experiment that places special “targets” in operating rooms. These targets are invisible from the floor or table but would be visible to someone looking on from the ceiling. So far, no one has ever reported seeing one of these targets in a near-death experience.
Chapter 10, “Are We Dead Yet?” This chapter is more reporting on near-death experiences.
Hagerty writes near the end of the chapter:
“Every person I interviewed who had traveled to the brink of death returned with a new definition of God. I had first noticed this when I talked with people who had enjoyed spontaneous mystical experiences, and I saw the pattern repeat with those who experience other transcendent moments as well. I realized that after encountering the “Other,” people no longer clung to religious distinctions. If they identified themselves as Christians or Jewish before, they might still attend church or synagogue, but they no longer believed their faith tradition could make a claim of exclusive truth. They were like witnesses to the same God, but from different angles. Or think of God as the head of a multinational corporation. He controls several subsidiary companies, each with its own president: Jesus . . . Moses . . . Muhammad . . . Buddha . . . and on and on. But take the elevator up one level, above the religions that try to make sense of the spiritual world, and you find the “Other” or “Light” or “Source”--that is, the CEO who presides over the whole enterprise.” Hagerty writes she is not sure this is her final conclusion, but it is what she heard repeatedly from the “spiritual adepts” she interviewed.
Chapter 11 “A New Name for God”
Hagerty quotes Einstein, “Everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the Universe—a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble.”
After referencing Anthony Flew's recent conversion and a lecture she heard by Francis Collins, both of which prominently referenced the improbability of intelligence in a genuinely godless, purposeless universe, Hagerty writes that a vision of God as “the infinite intelligence” that lies behind the math of the universe—this “is a God who makes sense to me, a defensible God, and one who has a starring role in a new batch of scientific experiments” p. 246. The experiments she is referencing are efforts to explore awareness at a distance. She recounts stories of people who awaken with sudden concern for a loved one, and then discover the loved one was in fact in dramatic crisis at just that moment.
Interesting but not earthshaking for me. I guess the implication she is positing is that if there is such a thing as awareness at a distance, it would break the “absolute rule” of the known laws of physics and make room for something else . . . something spiritual?
In chapter 12 she recounts a public exchange at Cambridge University between Richard Dawkins and mathematician John Barrow. It occurred in an event sponsored by the Templeton Foundation. Barrow “was speed-walking us through the hypothesis of a “fine-tuned” universe . . . He explained multiverses . . . then said, almost as an aside, “I'm quite happy with a traditional theistic view of the universe.”
Dawkins reacted sharply. “Why on earth do you believe in God?”
Barrow: “If you want to look for divine action, physicists look at the rationality of the universe and the mathematical structure of the world.”
Dawkins: “Yes, but why do you want to look for divine action?”
Barrow, with a bit of a smile: “For the same reason that someone might not want to.”
The room erupted in laughter—everyone that is except for Dawkins.
Right at the end she reports on conversations with Mario Geauregard of the University of Montreal. He was one of the people who first did MRIs on people who were meditating. Beauregard says that when he presents his arguments that humans are more than biological robots, scientists clamor for more info. “Many young scientists come to me—not openly but covertly—and they tell me they greatly admire the kind of work I'm doing. They don't dare go public yet. . . .”
Which reminds me of something I read this week in another book, Science vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think by Elaine Howard Ecklund, a sociologist at Rice University. She found that younger scientists are more likely to be theists than are older scientists. These “younger scientists” are not students. They are faculty, thus beyond the point in life where people typically make radical changes in their beliefs. So over time the academy may become a bit more open to spirituality.
Hagerty quotes William James favorably: The real distinction between a material and spiritual worldview does not rest in hair-splitting abstractions about matter's inner essence, or about the metaphysical attributes of God. Materialism means simply the denial that the moral order is eternal, and the cutting off of ultimate hopes; spiritualism means the affirmation of an eternal moral order and the letting loose of hope.”
Hagerty then writes, “Given the choice, I throw my lot in with hope.”
Finally a paragraph written for us, the Friends of St Thomas.
“And if I'm wrong [in some of her less-than-orthodox opinions]? Well, if I'm wrong, I can only hope that the central character in my story, who included a skeptic named Thomas among His closest friends, would see in my questions an honest search for the truth. And, perhaps, He would approve.” p 283.
Hastily done. Excuse the egregious errors.
This synopsis served as the springboard for our conversation at the October 1, 2010, gathering of the Friends of St Thomas.
Barbara grew up Christian Scientist and “at age 34—with the exception of a vaccine before my family traveled to Europe—I had never visited the doctor, never taken a vitamin, never popped an aspirin, much less flu medicine.” Then in a moment of “weakness” tormented by the miseries of the flu, she took a single Tylenol which magically made her feel better. Within a couple of years she left Christian Science.
It was not only this experience of relief from flu misery through the agency of Tylenol that led to her change of religious identification.
She was in L. A. doing a story on Saddleback Community Church. She was visiting after the Saturday night service with a woman who had been battling cancer for years. Kathy's cancer had recently returned. Barbara asked Kathy, “How can you be so cheerful when you've got this awful disease?”
“It's Jesus,” Kathy said, “Jesus gives me peace.”
“A guy who lived two thousand years ago?” Barbara asked incredulously. “How can that be?”
“Jesus is as real to me as you,” Katy explained. “He's right here, right now.”
They continued talking. Then at some point that evening Barbara and Kathy together experienced a presence. Barbara writes, “The air grew warmer and heavier, as if someone had moved into the cirlces and was breathing on us. . . . Gradually, and ever so gently, I was engulfed by a presence I could feel but not touch. I was paralyzed. I could manage only shallow breaths. After a minute, although it seemed longer, the presence melted away. We sat quietly, while I waited for the earth to steady itself. I was too spooked to speak, and yet I was exhilarated, as the first time I skied down an expert slope, terrified and oddly happy that I could not turn back. Those few moments, the time ti takes to boil water for tea, reoriented my life. The episode left a mark on my psyche that I bear to this day.” p. 5.
Driven in part by her desire to “understand” her experience that night, Barbara began work on a book about spiritual experience. What do we make of the accounts of people who have been drug addicts for years, decades, then something touches them and they leave it all and become sober and functional. We do we make of the miracles accomplished by Christian Science practitioners?
One of Barbara's conclusions is given right up front: “After talking to countless scientists far more knowledgeable and insightful than I, I have concluded that science cannot prove God—but science is entirely consistent with God. It all depends on how you define 'God.'” p. 11
In chapter two, Barbara tells the stories several people who have had very different experiences with the divine, experiences that radically altered their lives. The first, Sophy Burnham, is now a grandmother. She began having mystical experiences when she was a child, with “definitive experience” occurring at Machu Pichu after she was married and had two teenage children. These experiences led her into a wide-ranging new agey kind of spiritual quest. One was a scientist whose life was disintegrating because of alcohol. Another was a grad student who began meditating (he was ethnically Indian). Still another was a teenager who was having significant behavioral problems. Still another was a Sufi.
Hagerty's point is two-fold: First people do have spiritual experiences. Not everyone. But most people. Secondly, while the experiences are not identical, there are some common elements in these experiences that appear to cross religious, ethnic, cultural boundaries. These common elements include personal transformation. After having such an experience, the person is different. Inescapably. Ineluctably. There is a cost: the loss of one's former life or identity.
In agreement with William James, she argues we can explore spirituality only if we agree to take seriously the accounts people give of their experiences. The subjective reporting of people is data. Sure, it's not the kind of data scientists are used to working with, but if we are going to study spirituality, we are going to have to give attention to the self-reporting of people who have had the experiences.
The title of this chapter is: The God who Breaks and Enters. These experiences are not available on a demand basis. These experiences happen to people. There are some things people can do to make it more likely for the experience to happen. But one cannot compel the experience.
Here I am reminded of the testimony of Steven Kotler in his book West of Jesus. He says that at one point in his life he pursuit the spiritual quest with great intensity. He mastered meditation, sitting for up to ten hours at a time. But “the vision” never came to him.
However, twice in widely disparate situations—different geography, different culture, different time—when he is nearly killed by the waves when surfing, but escapes, someone remarks to him, "It looks like the Conductor had his way with you."
We cannot command “break through” spiritual experiences. Neither can we perfectly secure ourselves against them. Paul on his way to Damascus wasn't looking for something new.
Chapter 3: The health effect of praying. (My title.) Studies on the effects of prayer are conflicting and inconclusive. The placebo effect is well-documented, illustrating the power of the mind to affect the body.
In chapter 4, Hagerty discusses “hitting bottom.” The essential prerequisite for a transformative spiritual experience is “brokenness.” I did not find it particularly illuminating. How do you schedule an episode of brokenness so you can have a transforming spiritual experience?
Chapter 5: Hunting for the God gene. Some interesting info, nothing ground shaking. Yes, there are genetic components that affect spirituality. Duh!!!!. Genetics affects everything—eyesight, hearing, touch, smell, IQ. Color blindness does not negate the reality of color. The reality of color does not somehow erase the fact that some people cannot perceive colors. Similarly, the fact that some people, including very articulate, learned scientists are oblivious to the divine or the numenous, that does not prove God does not exist. The reality that God does exist does not erase the fact that some people are insensible to God's reality and God's presence.
“Proof” that genetics plays a role in spirituality says almost nothing about the reality or non-reality of God.
Chapter 6. Drugs and spirituality. There are some interesting parallels between the experiences of people who use mushrooms religiously and the experiences of people who use other methods—like prayer, meditation, tongues-speaking—to enhance their openness to spirituality.
Chapter 7. Searching for the God spot.
One brain researcher theorizes that human sense of the divine originates in the right temporal lobe of the brain. This region is associated with epilepsy. And epilepsy is frequently associated with hyper religiosity. In some cases when a hyper religious person is treated medically for epilepsy, their religious zeal disappears.
It is possible to stimulate the right temporal lobe and evoke in a person a “Sensed Presence.” This Presence, according to Michael Persinger, is the source of spirituality in humans. Persinger is sure that all that happens in an encounter with God is that for some reason the right part of the brain is stimulated and one experiences a “Sensed Presence.” There is no actual presence in Persinger's view, merely the impression, the feeling, that there is.
Chapter 8. Spiritual virtuosos.
This chapter features the story of Scott McDermott, a Methodist pastor with a Ph. D. in New Testament. He heard about and was severely critical of the “Toronto Blessing” which was a Pentecostal revival that included people laughing uncontrollably and barking like dogs and doing other vocalizations.
He decided to check out the phenomenon first hand at a meeting led by the pastor of the Toronto Church. During this meeting, the Spirit came on McDermott and he experienced the Toronto blessing. It was a very dramatic, drawn out ecstatic experience. For an hour and a half he “ran” in place while lying on his back on the floor. As he was “running” he had visions of his journey from Jericho to Jerusalem.
Prior to this experience McDermott was already practicing a pretty intense spiritual life. He prayed for an hour or two a day. He was the pastor of a large Methodist Church and taught at a university. Still he never felt adequate. That changed during that marathon on the floor.
The Lord spoke to him. According to McDermott, when God spoke,
there was this indescribable love, it was beyond words, and it began to fill me. All that low self-esteem, all that sense of not being valued, began to melt in this love.
The change has been dramatic. I can't say I'm a perfect man as a result of this, or that every day I walk on cloud nine, but I will tell you this: Because of that, I know how much I'm loved by God. And When life gets hard—and life does get hard—God's love is there to see me through.”
After his mystical marathon, Scott said he was horrified that he had made himself such a spectacle. But the next day, he said, “People would ask, 'Why would you have an experience like that and not me?' And I don't have an answer to that one.”
The chapter talks about brain scans that have been done on people who are experts or at least highly practiced in different kinds of spiritual practice.
Franciscan nuns and Tibetan Buddhist monks had similar brain activity. Both reported having a sense of oneness or union with God or the universe. Scans showed these individuals' frontal lobes were highly active. “Think of the frontal lobes as the chief operating officer of the brain, one with accountant-like tendencies; it handles the details, helps plan and execute tasks, keeps you awake and alert and above all, focused.” p. 173.
At the same time the parietal loves of both of these groups appeared to become utterly inactive. One researcher calls the parietal lobes the “orientation area” because it orients you in space and time. The parietal lobes tell you where yournbody ends and the rest of the world begins. Which might explain the common experience associated with this kind of meditation: A feeling of oneness with the universe, the dissolution of self.
One of the common features Hagerty noticed in people who had experienced mystical states was their tendency to drop religious labels.
Brain scans of people speaking in tongues shows the frontal lobes completely shut down. The activity in the parietal lobes increased.
One common feature between the meditators and the charismatics was an asymmetry in the thalami (that's the plural of thalamus). In most people they are symmetrical. In all the spiritual virtuosos Newberg has studied they are markedly asymmetrical. (Andrew Newberg is associate professor of radiology in the department of radiology—with secondary appointments in psychiatry and religious studies—at the University of Pennsylvania. He has not identified an explanation for this asymmetry.
At the end of this chapter, Hagerty raises what I think is for her the ultimate question: What is the relationship of the mind to the brain. Is our mind a function of our brain? Or is the brain a tool of the mind?
For Hagerty, if the mind is a function of the brain, if the mind has no separable existence from the brain, then this would mean the triumph of materialism. There is nothing more than what can be accounted for by the currently known laws of physics.
As a Christian materialist (which is what I call the Adventist position on body-soul unity), it seems to me quite possible to conceive of the mind as an emergent property of the brain. Mental function is more than merely the addition of all the particular functions of neurons and other brain tissue, but mental function cannot be separated from brain tissue.
An analogy: There is on way you can learn anything meaningful about the software running on a computer by a chemical or physical analysis of the hardware of the computer. But the software is inseparable from the hardware.
You would never “see” a Bach concerto in a piano. No matter how finely you analyzed the mechanics or composition of the mechanism. But the music is inseparable from the piano . . . or lute or violin or flute or orchestra. The music cannot play itself. The music does not make the piano, the piano makes the music. But the music is more (or at least “other”) than the piano.
It is helpful to keep the concepts of mind and brain distinct. They are labels for different realities. But the different realities are not separable.
At least that's my view.
It's a view that Hagerty is clearly contending against in chapter 9, Out of My Body or out of My Mind?This chapter explores out of body experiences. The most well-evidence conclusion from various studies on out of body experiences is that many (most? all?) of the people who have had them are changed. And the changes are perceived by the people themselves and usually by others around them as positive changes. People who have had these experiences become less judgmental, more global, more compassionate.
Hagerty interviews people who are researching out-of-body experiences. A couple of avenues of research are evaluating the descriptions given by people who report floating up over the operating table when they've clinically died on the table. Do their descriptions match was actually happening? Could they know what they are describing from some other source than being an eye-witness of their own situation? Hagerty reports stories that appear to support the idea of a people actually observing from a point above the operating table. She also reports the failure (so far) of an experiment that places special “targets” in operating rooms. These targets are invisible from the floor or table but would be visible to someone looking on from the ceiling. So far, no one has ever reported seeing one of these targets in a near-death experience.
Chapter 10, “Are We Dead Yet?” This chapter is more reporting on near-death experiences.
Hagerty writes near the end of the chapter:
“Every person I interviewed who had traveled to the brink of death returned with a new definition of God. I had first noticed this when I talked with people who had enjoyed spontaneous mystical experiences, and I saw the pattern repeat with those who experience other transcendent moments as well. I realized that after encountering the “Other,” people no longer clung to religious distinctions. If they identified themselves as Christians or Jewish before, they might still attend church or synagogue, but they no longer believed their faith tradition could make a claim of exclusive truth. They were like witnesses to the same God, but from different angles. Or think of God as the head of a multinational corporation. He controls several subsidiary companies, each with its own president: Jesus . . . Moses . . . Muhammad . . . Buddha . . . and on and on. But take the elevator up one level, above the religions that try to make sense of the spiritual world, and you find the “Other” or “Light” or “Source”--that is, the CEO who presides over the whole enterprise.” Hagerty writes she is not sure this is her final conclusion, but it is what she heard repeatedly from the “spiritual adepts” she interviewed.
Chapter 11 “A New Name for God”
Hagerty quotes Einstein, “Everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the Universe—a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble.”
After referencing Anthony Flew's recent conversion and a lecture she heard by Francis Collins, both of which prominently referenced the improbability of intelligence in a genuinely godless, purposeless universe, Hagerty writes that a vision of God as “the infinite intelligence” that lies behind the math of the universe—this “is a God who makes sense to me, a defensible God, and one who has a starring role in a new batch of scientific experiments” p. 246. The experiments she is referencing are efforts to explore awareness at a distance. She recounts stories of people who awaken with sudden concern for a loved one, and then discover the loved one was in fact in dramatic crisis at just that moment.
Interesting but not earthshaking for me. I guess the implication she is positing is that if there is such a thing as awareness at a distance, it would break the “absolute rule” of the known laws of physics and make room for something else . . . something spiritual?
In chapter 12 she recounts a public exchange at Cambridge University between Richard Dawkins and mathematician John Barrow. It occurred in an event sponsored by the Templeton Foundation. Barrow “was speed-walking us through the hypothesis of a “fine-tuned” universe . . . He explained multiverses . . . then said, almost as an aside, “I'm quite happy with a traditional theistic view of the universe.”
Dawkins reacted sharply. “Why on earth do you believe in God?”
Barrow: “If you want to look for divine action, physicists look at the rationality of the universe and the mathematical structure of the world.”
Dawkins: “Yes, but why do you want to look for divine action?”
Barrow, with a bit of a smile: “For the same reason that someone might not want to.”
The room erupted in laughter—everyone that is except for Dawkins.
Right at the end she reports on conversations with Mario Geauregard of the University of Montreal. He was one of the people who first did MRIs on people who were meditating. Beauregard says that when he presents his arguments that humans are more than biological robots, scientists clamor for more info. “Many young scientists come to me—not openly but covertly—and they tell me they greatly admire the kind of work I'm doing. They don't dare go public yet. . . .”
Which reminds me of something I read this week in another book, Science vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think by Elaine Howard Ecklund, a sociologist at Rice University. She found that younger scientists are more likely to be theists than are older scientists. These “younger scientists” are not students. They are faculty, thus beyond the point in life where people typically make radical changes in their beliefs. So over time the academy may become a bit more open to spirituality.
Hagerty quotes William James favorably: The real distinction between a material and spiritual worldview does not rest in hair-splitting abstractions about matter's inner essence, or about the metaphysical attributes of God. Materialism means simply the denial that the moral order is eternal, and the cutting off of ultimate hopes; spiritualism means the affirmation of an eternal moral order and the letting loose of hope.”
Hagerty then writes, “Given the choice, I throw my lot in with hope.”
Finally a paragraph written for us, the Friends of St Thomas.
“And if I'm wrong [in some of her less-than-orthodox opinions]? Well, if I'm wrong, I can only hope that the central character in my story, who included a skeptic named Thomas among His closest friends, would see in my questions an honest search for the truth. And, perhaps, He would approve.” p 283.
Friday, September 3, 2010
The Brain and Spirituality
The Brain and Spirituality.
September 3, 2010
7:00 p.m. at North Hill Adventist Fellowship
10106 36th Street E
Edgewood, WA 98371
We will begin our conversation with a bit of a summary of some chapters in a book I'm reading titled, Fingerprints of God: The Search for the Science of Spirituality by Barbara Bradley Hagerty.
Hagerty is a reporter. A born again Christian. She grew up Christian Scientist.
The book is a report on the physical correlates in the brain to spiritual experience.
Put simply: Brain scans and other contemporary techniques of neurological investigation clearly show some consistent patterns of physical correlation to different kinds of spiritual experience.
The questions that naturally rise in connection with this research:
1. Does brain physiology and anatomy exhaustively account for spiritual experience, i.e. is it "all in our heads"? Or does this brain activity point to a reality outside the brain?
2. To put it another way: Are people who are unusually (or hyper-) spiritual, abnormally delusional or exceptionally aware? Does a lack of spiritual sensitivity or awareness indicate a person is more grounded in reality or merely less aware of the fullness of reality? Is a person who has minimal spiritual sensitivities more like someone who is colorblind or tone deaf or more like someone who is phobia-free or allergy-free?
3. Given our current knowledge of the universe and natural law, can we confidently say that anything which appeals to forces other than the strong and weak nuclear forces, gravity and electromagnetic energy is hokum?
4. See below for question 4.
Obviously, I believe there is more to the universe than the four forces. I am not confident our knowledge of the universe, even the near regions of it, that we can claim exhaustive knowledge of the forces which operate in it.
In Hagerty's book, she notes a number of times that the scientists she runs into who believe there is more to the universe than pure materialism and the four forces, have all--without exception--themselves had some kind of mystical experience. They are a minority of scientists to be sure. She was struck, and it rings true to me, by the very, very strong correlation between a scientist having had a mystical experience and his/her openness to spirituality as a perception of a reality "out there" as opposed to spirituality as merely brain activity.
So my question for us this evening: What mystical experiences have we had? Why are we believers? Many of us have strong credentials as skeptics, doubters, questioners, agnostics. This part of our reality is not mere posturing. However, given this part of our reality, why do we continue to care about God, prayer, spiritual life, religion?
I look forward to hearing your stories.
Question 4. According to brain scans, the theological content of one's religion makes zero difference in brain physiology. Different spiritual practices do map differently. That is, Buddhist meditation and Christian centering prayer look the same in the brain. Speaking in tongues looks different. One of the common ideas among hyper spiritual people in all sorts of different spiritual traditions is the unity of all things and the ultimate value of compassion. This convergence among the hyper spiritual led Hagerty to question the classic claims of Christianity to an exclusive patent on authentic spirituality. I share her questions in this area.
September 3, 2010
7:00 p.m. at North Hill Adventist Fellowship
10106 36th Street E
Edgewood, WA 98371
We will begin our conversation with a bit of a summary of some chapters in a book I'm reading titled, Fingerprints of God: The Search for the Science of Spirituality by Barbara Bradley Hagerty.
Hagerty is a reporter. A born again Christian. She grew up Christian Scientist.
The book is a report on the physical correlates in the brain to spiritual experience.
Put simply: Brain scans and other contemporary techniques of neurological investigation clearly show some consistent patterns of physical correlation to different kinds of spiritual experience.
The questions that naturally rise in connection with this research:
1. Does brain physiology and anatomy exhaustively account for spiritual experience, i.e. is it "all in our heads"? Or does this brain activity point to a reality outside the brain?
2. To put it another way: Are people who are unusually (or hyper-) spiritual, abnormally delusional or exceptionally aware? Does a lack of spiritual sensitivity or awareness indicate a person is more grounded in reality or merely less aware of the fullness of reality? Is a person who has minimal spiritual sensitivities more like someone who is colorblind or tone deaf or more like someone who is phobia-free or allergy-free?
3. Given our current knowledge of the universe and natural law, can we confidently say that anything which appeals to forces other than the strong and weak nuclear forces, gravity and electromagnetic energy is hokum?
4. See below for question 4.
Obviously, I believe there is more to the universe than the four forces. I am not confident our knowledge of the universe, even the near regions of it, that we can claim exhaustive knowledge of the forces which operate in it.
In Hagerty's book, she notes a number of times that the scientists she runs into who believe there is more to the universe than pure materialism and the four forces, have all--without exception--themselves had some kind of mystical experience. They are a minority of scientists to be sure. She was struck, and it rings true to me, by the very, very strong correlation between a scientist having had a mystical experience and his/her openness to spirituality as a perception of a reality "out there" as opposed to spirituality as merely brain activity.
So my question for us this evening: What mystical experiences have we had? Why are we believers? Many of us have strong credentials as skeptics, doubters, questioners, agnostics. This part of our reality is not mere posturing. However, given this part of our reality, why do we continue to care about God, prayer, spiritual life, religion?
I look forward to hearing your stories.
Question 4. According to brain scans, the theological content of one's religion makes zero difference in brain physiology. Different spiritual practices do map differently. That is, Buddhist meditation and Christian centering prayer look the same in the brain. Speaking in tongues looks different. One of the common ideas among hyper spiritual people in all sorts of different spiritual traditions is the unity of all things and the ultimate value of compassion. This convergence among the hyper spiritual led Hagerty to question the classic claims of Christianity to an exclusive patent on authentic spirituality. I share her questions in this area.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Loneliness by John T Cacioppo
You are invited to a gathering of the Friends of St Thomas this evening, July 16, at 7:00 p.m. at North Hill Adventist Fellowship, 10106 36th Street E, Edgewood, WA 98371,
The springboard for our conversation will be some ideas I read in a book, Loneliness by John T Cacioppo and William Patrick.
"After sorting through mountains of data, the three authors found no association between depth of spiritual feeling and health. Instead what they found was a strong, prospective, and often graded reduction of mortality linked to individuals who actually attend religious services. In other words, people who regularly went to church or synagogue lived longer than those in similar situations who did not. In some studies there is even a "dose effect," meaning that those who go to church more than once a week enjoy even better health than those who attend only once a week. Overall, the reduction in mortality attributable to churchgoing is twenty-five percent--a huge amount in epidemiological studies--even after discounting other effects, such as the fact that, yes, being religious generally leads to a more healthful lifestyle." p. 261
In a paragraph that was made more curious by the authors' strong attachment to materialism, including the purposeless movement of history, they wrote:
"As social beings with a DNA-based interest in teh future, we are driven to look beyond ourselves not just for connection but for meaning. The "selfish gene" led to the social brain. . . . Eventually, in a continuing progression, the same shaping forces of natural selection gave rise to the Third Adaptation [the authors' term for the distinctive reality of homo sapiens in contrast to the culture of chimpanzees and bonobos]. . . . This drive for meaning appears to have endowed us with a biological need to be linked with somethng greater than ourselves. It is only through some ultimate sense of connection that we can face our own mortality without despair . . . Just as finding social connection is good for us, finding that transcendant something appears to be very good for us, whether it is a belief in a deity or a belief in the community of science." pp. 262-263.
The springboard for our conversation will be some ideas I read in a book, Loneliness by John T Cacioppo and William Patrick.
"After sorting through mountains of data, the three authors found no association between depth of spiritual feeling and health. Instead what they found was a strong, prospective, and often graded reduction of mortality linked to individuals who actually attend religious services. In other words, people who regularly went to church or synagogue lived longer than those in similar situations who did not. In some studies there is even a "dose effect," meaning that those who go to church more than once a week enjoy even better health than those who attend only once a week. Overall, the reduction in mortality attributable to churchgoing is twenty-five percent--a huge amount in epidemiological studies--even after discounting other effects, such as the fact that, yes, being religious generally leads to a more healthful lifestyle." p. 261
In a paragraph that was made more curious by the authors' strong attachment to materialism, including the purposeless movement of history, they wrote:
"As social beings with a DNA-based interest in teh future, we are driven to look beyond ourselves not just for connection but for meaning. The "selfish gene" led to the social brain. . . . Eventually, in a continuing progression, the same shaping forces of natural selection gave rise to the Third Adaptation [the authors' term for the distinctive reality of homo sapiens in contrast to the culture of chimpanzees and bonobos]. . . . This drive for meaning appears to have endowed us with a biological need to be linked with somethng greater than ourselves. It is only through some ultimate sense of connection that we can face our own mortality without despair . . . Just as finding social connection is good for us, finding that transcendant something appears to be very good for us, whether it is a belief in a deity or a belief in the community of science." pp. 262-263.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Sabbath Keeping -- The North Hill Rules
A thousand years ago no Europeans kept the Sabbath. At least none that we know about. Then about 500 years ago the Reformation happened. Martin Luther, John Calvin Ulrich Zwingli called for a reform in the church based on what they read in the Bible.
What made their calls for reform effective was the printing press. The Bible was now available in the common languages of Europe and there was an explosion of Bible reading. And reading the Bible is almost always a revolutionary act. The widespread Bible reading by all kinds of people created fertile soil for the preaching of the Reformers.
While the preachers were busy arguing theology and church authority, common people all over Europe were discovering the Sabbath. It's right there, in the fourth commandment, in the stories of Jesus, in the practice of the apostles. It was as plain as the nose on your face.
The leading reformers were not amused. They wanted their people to read the Bible. They wanted the church to reform in the light of principles spelled out in the Bible. But they did not want anybody keeping Sabbath. These men became fanatical opponents of Sabbath keeping.
Luther called the preachers who taught Sabbath-keeping: “unlearned,” “foolish,” “apes,” and Judaizersthere were whole communities of Christians keeping Sabbath in places like Silesia and Moravia. (Today those places are in Poland and the Czech Republic respectively.) The place where Sabbath was the most widely embraced was Transylvania.
John Calvin wrote about them that they “went thrice as far as Jews in the gross and carnal superstition of sabbatism.”
Luther and Calvin both used the death penalty to fight “Sabbatizers.” And to a large extent they won. Within a few decades appreciation for the seventh-day Sabbath largely disappeared. In the 1700s the Puritans revived interest in the Sabbath, thought they argued the Sabbath had been switched to Sunday instead of Saturday. Seventh-day Baptists came into existence at about this time. Some of them suffered severe persecution for their Sabbath beliefs.
Finally in the 1860s the Baptists introduced Adventists to Sabbath-keeping. There are now over 20 million Adventists around the world and many other groups and denominations that advocate Sabbath-keeping. So we are are part of a multi-million member community that advocates Sabbath-keeping.
So today I'm going to talk about how to keep Sabbath. What can you do to enter most fully into the blessing that God intends the Sabbath to be. In fact, I'm going to give you seven rules.
According to the Bible, Sabbath begins on Friday at sunset. The rules I'm going to outline are for Friday night. I'll leave day time Sabbath-keeping for another time. Here's my prescription really good Sabbath-keeping.
1.Stop.
2.Pray.
3.Read a passage from the Bible.
4.Put on some good music.
5.Eat and drink something special.
6.Light candles or sit on the porch and watch the sunset
7.Sit and talk.
Stop
Deliberately stop. Just quit. This is the hardest part of Sabbath-keeping for most people. Stop. When there is still some work left to do. If you stop only when you have your work finished, one of two things is true: Either you will never stop or you don't understand the job. Why should a person be legalistic about quitting at sundown (or when 3 stars are visible—this is the classic Jewish definition of the beginning and end of Sabbath—or 6:00 p.m.--this is the time used by the very first Seventh-day Adventists before further study persuaded them that sundown was the proper time to begin and end Sabbath.) The reason for being legalistic, that is stopping at a predetermined time, is that that is the only way to escape the tyranny of the necessary.
Many of us grew up with an expectation that you should have your house clean before Sabbath. This is a good idea. It lines up with our belief that Sabbath is a time of special visitation by God. If you are going to have your mother-in-law over for dinner, you will probably want your apartment to look clean and neat and beautiful and immaculate and . . . well, perfect. So it's natural to want at least as good for God.
If you have the time and energy to do this, go for it. Most mortals, however, discover that achieving this goal of perfection obliges them to work all night. In the process they miss the party. The only way to actually make it to God's Sabbath party, is to just stop working. Especially when sundown is at 4:30 in December, there's no way most people are going to be able to get home from work and get the house spic and span before sundown. Don't sweat it.
God says, “Let it go. It's good enough. I like a clean house. I like spending time with you even more. Leave it alone. Come, sit with me.”
It's the reason Adventists insist on getting off work early on Fridays in the winter. Sabbath beckons. God beckons. We don't want to miss the beginning of the sacred party.
It's easy to misunderstand the command to stop. Some of us imagine God standing with a stop watch scowling as the clock ticks closer to sundown, ready to explode when the moment comes, “I knew you wouldn't make it! You're never ready! It's like this every week. You talk about getting ready. You tell the kids to get ready. It doesn't happen. I'm outta here!
That is not God.
Here's God: “It's sundown. I'm going to sit down and enjoy a drink. I'd really like it if you came and sat with me.”
The fundamental, essential doorway into Sabbath is this: STOP. QUIT.
I think it is best to hear these words as an invitation. But just in case you are too compulsive to lay down your work, God gave it as a divine command. This command is also useful if you need some help pushing back against the demands of other people.
So stop. Quit. That's how Sabbath begins.
Rule number two: Pray
What to say? Prayer is our way of deliberately, consciously opening ourselves to God. So, once you've stopped on Friday night, the next thing to do is to pray. If you are with other people, invite them to prayer with you. Lift your eyes to heaven and say something like this, “Lord, thank you for this holy time. Thank you for this refuge from the pressure to earn more, to achieve more, learn more, to work faster. We accept your invitation to spend this evening in the light of your smile.
Read the Bible
There would be no Sabbath in our world apart from the Bible. Sabbath-keeping among Christians traces its roots to the rediscovery of the Bible during the Reformation. It was the intense Bible study that came as a result of the Bible being translated into the common languages and being widely distributed that gave birth to Sabbath-keeping among Christians.
Sabbath-keeping came to Adventists because of Bible study. People join us today in keeping Sabbath because of what they read in the Book. The Bible points us to the Sabbath. On Sabbath we return the favor and point our minds toward the Bible.
Sabbath is the primary occasion when we as a community engage with the Bible. We urge everyone to spend some time every day interacting with the Bible. When we come together on Sabbath, our time together is enriched by our focus on the Bible in our Sabbath School classes and sermons.
So, on Friday night, honor the Book by reading a passage either at sundown or over dinner.
Put on Some Good Music
What can I say? My favorite Friday night music is baroque trumpet. You'll find your own favorites, music that speaks to you of beauty and holy love.
Eat and Drink Something Good
Your children should be able to tell it's Sabbath by the smell of the kitchen. You should be able to tell it's Sabbath by the flavor in your mouth.
Now that it's spring, my favorite Friday night food is strawberry shortcake. I make fantastic sweet biscuits. We whip real cream. (We don't use the stuff that comes in spray cans. And for sure, we don't use Dream Whip.)
Then we pour some Martinellis or some Welches sparkling grape juice. Ahhhhhhh! It's good. It's Sabbath. I'm smiling and I know our heavenly Father is smiling, too. We are partying with God.
I think this is as important for Sabbath-keeping as reading the Bible or praying. When we eat and drink on Friday night, we are worshiping God with our bodies. We receiving his grace with our mouths.
The link between spiritual life and eating and drinking is highlighted in the passages we examined in our quiz:
What event climaxed the first day of Moses' father-in-law's visit? Exodus 18.
What did the elders of Israel do when they saw God? Exodus 24
What did Jesus do after church? Mark 1
What did Jesus REALLY want to do before he died? Luke 22:14-15
What does Jesus want to do with you right now and in the future? Revelation 3:20
Sabbath-morning worship in Adventist churches focuses on the Bible. In Sabbath School and in the sermon, we give careful attention to what God has said in his Word. On Friday night, we focus on God's people and God's presence. We eat and drink in the presence of God.
Light a Candle or Sit on the Porch Watching the Glow in the Sky
In the winter, lighting candles turns the early gloom into a backdrop for warm light. In the summer, if the evening is warm and you can see the western sky, why not sit outside for awhile and bask in the magic of the evening? The attention to light reminds us that God smiles at us. The face of God is not a frown, not a scowl, not a stony indifference. It is a smile. Given the ugliness and trouble in the world, it is good on Friday night to push back, to remind ourselves that when God looks our direction he smiles.
Sit and Talk
Sabbath-keeping is about relationships. It is about intimacy, about connecting with others. In the rough and tumble of everyday life we connect with people through work and through conflict—both as allies and as enemies. We connect with people through commerce.
Sabbath is about connecting with people through “unproductive” conversation and eating and music and worship. The point of Sabbath is to just be with one another. We do derive benefits from Sabbath-keeping. However, these benefits are not easily quantifiable or measurable. Sabbath-keeping takes us into another world.
Given the Puritan distortions of Sabbath-keeping, it is important to point out that the first Friday night, the first beginning of Sabbath, was a honey-moon night in the most literal sense. Sabbath is supposed to be a weekly renewal of marital intimacy. Sabbath was intended by God to interrupt our drive to secure our place in the world and given attention to cultivating the relationships that make life worth living. So Sabbath-keeping involves the rich sensuality of food and drink. It is an invitation to the even richer sensuality of marital intimacy.
This earthy, concrete approach to Sabbath-keeping is possible only in the concrete world. While the internet and 3ABN may be useful substitutes when the real thing is unavailable, full, authentic Sabbath-keeping involves face-to-face, person-to-person intimacy. Listening to a sermon on 3ABN is a very meager form of Sabbath-keeping.
When we embrace this kind of Sabbath-keeping, this evening full of prayer, good food and drink, candles and conversation, and sweet touch, we experience Sabbath as the very essence of life. No wonder it is one of the ten commandments. Sabbath-keeping is the very opposite of the woes prohibited in the succeeding commandments: stealing, adultery and murder. In contrast to these life-destroying aberrations, God calls us to the joyous experience of Sabbath.
I recommend it.
What made their calls for reform effective was the printing press. The Bible was now available in the common languages of Europe and there was an explosion of Bible reading. And reading the Bible is almost always a revolutionary act. The widespread Bible reading by all kinds of people created fertile soil for the preaching of the Reformers.
While the preachers were busy arguing theology and church authority, common people all over Europe were discovering the Sabbath. It's right there, in the fourth commandment, in the stories of Jesus, in the practice of the apostles. It was as plain as the nose on your face.
The leading reformers were not amused. They wanted their people to read the Bible. They wanted the church to reform in the light of principles spelled out in the Bible. But they did not want anybody keeping Sabbath. These men became fanatical opponents of Sabbath keeping.
Luther called the preachers who taught Sabbath-keeping: “unlearned,” “foolish,” “apes,” and Judaizersthere were whole communities of Christians keeping Sabbath in places like Silesia and Moravia. (Today those places are in Poland and the Czech Republic respectively.) The place where Sabbath was the most widely embraced was Transylvania.
John Calvin wrote about them that they “went thrice as far as Jews in the gross and carnal superstition of sabbatism.”
Luther and Calvin both used the death penalty to fight “Sabbatizers.” And to a large extent they won. Within a few decades appreciation for the seventh-day Sabbath largely disappeared. In the 1700s the Puritans revived interest in the Sabbath, thought they argued the Sabbath had been switched to Sunday instead of Saturday. Seventh-day Baptists came into existence at about this time. Some of them suffered severe persecution for their Sabbath beliefs.
Finally in the 1860s the Baptists introduced Adventists to Sabbath-keeping. There are now over 20 million Adventists around the world and many other groups and denominations that advocate Sabbath-keeping. So we are are part of a multi-million member community that advocates Sabbath-keeping.
So today I'm going to talk about how to keep Sabbath. What can you do to enter most fully into the blessing that God intends the Sabbath to be. In fact, I'm going to give you seven rules.
According to the Bible, Sabbath begins on Friday at sunset. The rules I'm going to outline are for Friday night. I'll leave day time Sabbath-keeping for another time. Here's my prescription really good Sabbath-keeping.
1.Stop.
2.Pray.
3.Read a passage from the Bible.
4.Put on some good music.
5.Eat and drink something special.
6.Light candles or sit on the porch and watch the sunset
7.Sit and talk.
Stop
Deliberately stop. Just quit. This is the hardest part of Sabbath-keeping for most people. Stop. When there is still some work left to do. If you stop only when you have your work finished, one of two things is true: Either you will never stop or you don't understand the job. Why should a person be legalistic about quitting at sundown (or when 3 stars are visible—this is the classic Jewish definition of the beginning and end of Sabbath—or 6:00 p.m.--this is the time used by the very first Seventh-day Adventists before further study persuaded them that sundown was the proper time to begin and end Sabbath.) The reason for being legalistic, that is stopping at a predetermined time, is that that is the only way to escape the tyranny of the necessary.
Many of us grew up with an expectation that you should have your house clean before Sabbath. This is a good idea. It lines up with our belief that Sabbath is a time of special visitation by God. If you are going to have your mother-in-law over for dinner, you will probably want your apartment to look clean and neat and beautiful and immaculate and . . . well, perfect. So it's natural to want at least as good for God.
If you have the time and energy to do this, go for it. Most mortals, however, discover that achieving this goal of perfection obliges them to work all night. In the process they miss the party. The only way to actually make it to God's Sabbath party, is to just stop working. Especially when sundown is at 4:30 in December, there's no way most people are going to be able to get home from work and get the house spic and span before sundown. Don't sweat it.
God says, “Let it go. It's good enough. I like a clean house. I like spending time with you even more. Leave it alone. Come, sit with me.”
It's the reason Adventists insist on getting off work early on Fridays in the winter. Sabbath beckons. God beckons. We don't want to miss the beginning of the sacred party.
It's easy to misunderstand the command to stop. Some of us imagine God standing with a stop watch scowling as the clock ticks closer to sundown, ready to explode when the moment comes, “I knew you wouldn't make it! You're never ready! It's like this every week. You talk about getting ready. You tell the kids to get ready. It doesn't happen. I'm outta here!
That is not God.
Here's God: “It's sundown. I'm going to sit down and enjoy a drink. I'd really like it if you came and sat with me.”
The fundamental, essential doorway into Sabbath is this: STOP. QUIT.
I think it is best to hear these words as an invitation. But just in case you are too compulsive to lay down your work, God gave it as a divine command. This command is also useful if you need some help pushing back against the demands of other people.
So stop. Quit. That's how Sabbath begins.
Rule number two: Pray
What to say? Prayer is our way of deliberately, consciously opening ourselves to God. So, once you've stopped on Friday night, the next thing to do is to pray. If you are with other people, invite them to prayer with you. Lift your eyes to heaven and say something like this, “Lord, thank you for this holy time. Thank you for this refuge from the pressure to earn more, to achieve more, learn more, to work faster. We accept your invitation to spend this evening in the light of your smile.
Read the Bible
There would be no Sabbath in our world apart from the Bible. Sabbath-keeping among Christians traces its roots to the rediscovery of the Bible during the Reformation. It was the intense Bible study that came as a result of the Bible being translated into the common languages and being widely distributed that gave birth to Sabbath-keeping among Christians.
Sabbath-keeping came to Adventists because of Bible study. People join us today in keeping Sabbath because of what they read in the Book. The Bible points us to the Sabbath. On Sabbath we return the favor and point our minds toward the Bible.
Sabbath is the primary occasion when we as a community engage with the Bible. We urge everyone to spend some time every day interacting with the Bible. When we come together on Sabbath, our time together is enriched by our focus on the Bible in our Sabbath School classes and sermons.
So, on Friday night, honor the Book by reading a passage either at sundown or over dinner.
Put on Some Good Music
What can I say? My favorite Friday night music is baroque trumpet. You'll find your own favorites, music that speaks to you of beauty and holy love.
Eat and Drink Something Good
Your children should be able to tell it's Sabbath by the smell of the kitchen. You should be able to tell it's Sabbath by the flavor in your mouth.
Now that it's spring, my favorite Friday night food is strawberry shortcake. I make fantastic sweet biscuits. We whip real cream. (We don't use the stuff that comes in spray cans. And for sure, we don't use Dream Whip.)
Then we pour some Martinellis or some Welches sparkling grape juice. Ahhhhhhh! It's good. It's Sabbath. I'm smiling and I know our heavenly Father is smiling, too. We are partying with God.
I think this is as important for Sabbath-keeping as reading the Bible or praying. When we eat and drink on Friday night, we are worshiping God with our bodies. We receiving his grace with our mouths.
The link between spiritual life and eating and drinking is highlighted in the passages we examined in our quiz:
What event climaxed the first day of Moses' father-in-law's visit? Exodus 18.
What did the elders of Israel do when they saw God? Exodus 24
What did Jesus do after church? Mark 1
What did Jesus REALLY want to do before he died? Luke 22:14-15
What does Jesus want to do with you right now and in the future? Revelation 3:20
Sabbath-morning worship in Adventist churches focuses on the Bible. In Sabbath School and in the sermon, we give careful attention to what God has said in his Word. On Friday night, we focus on God's people and God's presence. We eat and drink in the presence of God.
Light a Candle or Sit on the Porch Watching the Glow in the Sky
In the winter, lighting candles turns the early gloom into a backdrop for warm light. In the summer, if the evening is warm and you can see the western sky, why not sit outside for awhile and bask in the magic of the evening? The attention to light reminds us that God smiles at us. The face of God is not a frown, not a scowl, not a stony indifference. It is a smile. Given the ugliness and trouble in the world, it is good on Friday night to push back, to remind ourselves that when God looks our direction he smiles.
Sit and Talk
Sabbath-keeping is about relationships. It is about intimacy, about connecting with others. In the rough and tumble of everyday life we connect with people through work and through conflict—both as allies and as enemies. We connect with people through commerce.
Sabbath is about connecting with people through “unproductive” conversation and eating and music and worship. The point of Sabbath is to just be with one another. We do derive benefits from Sabbath-keeping. However, these benefits are not easily quantifiable or measurable. Sabbath-keeping takes us into another world.
Given the Puritan distortions of Sabbath-keeping, it is important to point out that the first Friday night, the first beginning of Sabbath, was a honey-moon night in the most literal sense. Sabbath is supposed to be a weekly renewal of marital intimacy. Sabbath was intended by God to interrupt our drive to secure our place in the world and given attention to cultivating the relationships that make life worth living. So Sabbath-keeping involves the rich sensuality of food and drink. It is an invitation to the even richer sensuality of marital intimacy.
This earthy, concrete approach to Sabbath-keeping is possible only in the concrete world. While the internet and 3ABN may be useful substitutes when the real thing is unavailable, full, authentic Sabbath-keeping involves face-to-face, person-to-person intimacy. Listening to a sermon on 3ABN is a very meager form of Sabbath-keeping.
When we embrace this kind of Sabbath-keeping, this evening full of prayer, good food and drink, candles and conversation, and sweet touch, we experience Sabbath as the very essence of life. No wonder it is one of the ten commandments. Sabbath-keeping is the very opposite of the woes prohibited in the succeeding commandments: stealing, adultery and murder. In contrast to these life-destroying aberrations, God calls us to the joyous experience of Sabbath.
I recommend it.
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