Different Mountains, Same Sky
Beirdd

Tue Jan  2 21:34:32 2001
DIFFERENT MOUNTAINS, SAME SKY*br*Reflections on the Spiritual Search*p*"Dilettante."*p*That word confused me, and even scared me, when I first learned it in my seventh grade English class. It wasn't that it looked too French to be an English word. It wasn't even that silent e. There was something else about it that struck at the core of who, and what, I aspired to be.*p*To explain what that was, exactly, would have filled a book even at the tender age of eleven. There would be a series of chapters on my Italian heritage, on my family tree, and on my love of art and science encouraged by my parents and guided by my "favorite" uncle who was, himself, a scientist and art collector. Two historic figures would loom over the theme of the book: Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo Buonarroti. These contemporaries were artists, scientists, musicians, poets. They were Renaissance Men and that's what I wanted to be.*p*I tried my best to direct my talents in every possible direction. An avid reader, I had a great appreciation for what book could teach. Among the more practical things I learned from books was how to bowl -- because of it, my very first bowling score (at the age of nine) was a 125. I was quickly becoming a quietly obsessive character bent on being a modern day da Vinci, even though 7th grade Algebra was offering a huge challenge, but not as great a challenge as the word dilettante.*p*As my English teacher dictated it to us, a dilettante was "a person who does a little bit of everything, and none of it well." Unfortunately for my self-esteem-challenged ears, I caught the matter of the first part of the definition, but only the sense of the rest. Oh, God! Was I a dilettante? Was that to be my destiny? The question tortured me for a whole year and more until the day I was called on to define the very same word in my 8th grade English/Social Studies class. Immediately plunged into a great mist, I murmured in answer, "A dilettante is someone who does a little bit of everything." "No," came the voice of my savior, Mr. Cerqua. "A dilettante is a dabbler, son, someone who jumps here and there and just scratches the surface of things. Are you a dilettante, Mr. Bruno?" He must have seen my eyes refocus on the classroom as the mist was quickly vanquished by the beams of realization he had just shown upon me. He paused with a slightly amused look on his face. "No, I don't think you are," he said, and moved on with the lesson. And so did I move on.*p*In the years that have come and gone since that day in Junior High, I have occasionally caught myself being a dilettante, and tried to move on or to move more deeply. I have also met many dilettantes among the scientists and artists and business majors I have known. But nowhere have I come face-to-face with the spirit of the eternal dabbler more directly than in my experience as a theologian and minister, both during my active ministry and since. I have become convinced that the devil is a dilettante and that it's one of the more amusing things about him. I have also come to see that spiritual dabbling is the most pervasive, and the saddest, temptation to those on the noble search for spiritual identity and meaning.*p*Don't get me wrong: I believe that the modern tendency for people to question the faith of their immediate ancestors and to search for what gives meaning to them personally is a healthy thing. Reading and learning about other traditions, attending services in other churches and temples, praying and worshipping in new or very old ways, particularly if these are filling a void brought about by spiritual and religious inactivity of any kind, are definitely positive practices. The positivity of it is the key, the honesty, the depth, the desire to find a treasure. Digging two shovelfuls where X marks the spot and giving up because there was no thunk! is the sign of a misdirected and disingenuous treasure hunter. The fields of spiritual treasure are often pockmarked with tiny holes dug by those seeking gratification just beneath the turf of life. If you're bothering to pick up a shovel and go on a search, then you may as well dig like you mean it!*br*-------*p*"A cosmic philosophy is not constructed to fit a man; a cosmic philosophy is constructed to fit a cosmos. A man can no more possess a private religion than he can possess a private sun and moon." G.K. Chesterton.*p*During the few years that I was the baby-faced "new priest" in the parish, I was often sought out by young people in the midst of their spiritual search , some wondering why they should stay in the Church, but most seeking a way to come back in a meaningful way. With no exception, they had tried other "spiritualities," each with very personal practices. Most of them were dabbling in New Age spiritualities, neo-Pagan rituals, or Native American, Shamanistic, or eastern religious traditions. Because of my own interests in religious traditions of all types, I was able to surprise them with my understanding of what they were doing. My usual practice was to talk to them about the needs that these other practices were meeting within them, and then to show them how their own Catholic spiritual and religious tradition could answer those same needs. They were always surprised at the facets of Catholicism which I introduced to them, having never realized that there is a Catholic spiritual tradition that goes beyond what most Catholics learn in terms meant, not for adults, but for young children in religious education classes. From my latest exploration of the parish grapevines, all of those who "came back" are still active in their churches, and none of those who were contemplating leaving actually left. With a small smile and apology to my many friends in the neo-Pagan community, all of them have given up their non-Catholic explorations.*p*For any faith, religion, church, or spiritual tradition, the greatest danger is the failure to be properly understood.*p*Spiritual Search Rule 1: Remember what you were taught about counting to ten before speaking when angry, stepping back from a dispute until things cool down, or letting things settle before making an important decision?  Well, then, never make a change in your religious "affiliation" while in a strongly emotional state, either!*p*There is a tendency, nowadays, for people to stress the distinction between spirituality and religion. This is usually due to a popular view, in some circles, that the so-called "traditional" churches, the practitioners of religion,  are "out of touch" with the needs of the souls of their members and are, in fact, more intent on exercising earthly control than spiritual guidance. I find it interesting that while Americans, at least, seem to have not a care about the shady pasts of those whom they elect to wield direct economic and legal control over them, they seem so sensitive over the long past sins of institutions from whose influence they can divorce themselves without a care for earthly repercussions of any kind. Perhaps this fact offers some hope that the sense of the importance of the eternal over the worldly, the spiritual over the material, is still alive and well despite the almost unnatural materialism and self-worship promoted today.*p*The word religion is originally Latin, having the same root as the word ligament. It literally means to re-bind in the sense of to bind more tightly or strongly. This meaning certainly evokes an image of a church controlling through its doctrine. However, its original meaning is actually aimed in a more Otherworldly direction. Religion is, at its most basic, an acknowledgment on the part of human beings that there is a superhuman power which is entitled to human obedience, respect, and worship, and that this relationship is made manifest in the way in which one lives one's life. In other words, religion is what binds you in relationship to the divine, and what bounds that relationship sets on your actions and behavior. In light of this, the fact that a particular church or tradition codifies these bounds in a doctrine or dogma as an expression of the societal nature of human relationships, even with divinity, weakens the sometimes popular notion that the mere idea of dogma is somehow sinister.*p*This understanding of religion also shows that it is not all that different from spirituality. People in love with each other naturally share the most personal and intimate of relationships. While that love allows for an acceptance of a wide variety of behaviors on the part of the individuals sharing it, it also sets bounds on that behavior. Often, these bounds are also expressed or reflected in the laws of the society in which the couple live. If we can call the ineffable, indefinable love the spirituality of the relationship, then the bonds of love are its religion. Who among us would distinguish between love and its requirements? Then what can we really say about the difference between religion  and spirituality?*p*Love changes us. We are changed during the process of the loving relationship. Just think of the things that you changed about yourself out of love, and I don't mean the act you put on to attract your better half. There are many ways that we are better people now than we were before we entered into the relationship of our lives. Religion changes us, as well. It is the relationship of our immortality. When we are young and immature we dabble in relationships, sometimes thinking we are in love, but soon realizing otherwise. Those among us who continue to dabble in the hearts of others into the age of expected maturity, avoiding the possibility of love, are viewed as trapped in adolescence. When we dabble in religion, picking and choosing what we like, staying far enough away to avoid the real spiritual change that comes from religious commitment, indeed, shunning the mere idea of being molded by a religion, we are showing our tendency toward spiritual immaturity. The fact is that both religion and spirituality place burdens upon us; they make demands. There is no such thing as a "feel good" religion or spirituality in which the good feeling comes from a lack of requirements.*p*John Henry Newman, a man whose own spiritual journey led him to leave the church of his parents to become a Catholic and eventually a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, once said, "True religion is slow in growth, and, when once planted, is difficult of dislodgment; but its intellectual counterfeit has no root in itself: it springs up suddenly, it suddenly withers." The spiritual dilettante will keep hopping between religions so long as he never really wants to be planted. *p*As G.K. Chesterton observed above, private religion is a fantasy. We are societal creatures. Even a hermit practices in a solitary way what others practice together. While a given spirituality may offer challenges to the lonely castaway on a desert island, these are nothing compared to the temptations that are present if even just one other person shares the exile. If religion has relationship at its center, then the requisite boundaries, which in spirituality-speak are often called disciplines, are not merely attachments to the relationship but expressions of the soul's movement toward positive change. They can't be mixed and matched. They can't be removed or attached when convenient. They demand personal transformation. They require a life that manifests a person's respect for the divine in the way he or she shows respect for other human beings. These are not things for dabblers and dilettantes. *p*The spiritual dilettante meets a tradition the way a campaigning politician meets an individual in a crowd: she shakes hands and hopes for a vote. Ever since college, when I actually had a proto-politician as a friend, I found myself to be ever more aggravated by his handshake. There was too much vacuity in it, despite the fact that I knew this young man actually did care for everyone he met. I once told him so directly: "John, don't shake my hand unless you really mean it. Don't pull this politician stuff with me." He looked serious for a moment, and then grew his best campaigner's smile. He patted me on the back and said, "You're such a buster...that's what I like about you!" From that point on, I never got a handshake from him, always the politician's back slap. And that's what we give to religious traditions when we enthusiastically touch them and look past them, with half a heart hoping to take something ineffable away with us.*p*Westerners, particularly Americans, have grown to love dabbling in the spiritual practices of "the ancestors," whether these are their own forebears or not. They are Shamans who never walked the steppes, Druids who never had Gaelic touch their lips, Hindus who never went without bug spray or a burger. They go in numbers to Native American gatherings where they are tolerated for their wallets and despised for their audacity. And if heaven asks too much, they need not fear: the internet has become the home of their eclectic and unburdened souls. How must the "ancestors" feel to have what was most precious to them treated with such nonchalance cloaked behind acting eyes?*p*Dabbling in traditions not only shows a unique disrespect for them, but is also a sign of disrespect for our own spiritual growth. This growth is a tornado on the clock of the eons: ever spiraling upward but with a maddeningly slow-motion spin. We, too, are of the ages, and while we rush to accomplish so much that is unimportant, the saddest thing is when we rush to accomplish what is truly meant to be done with the dignity of eternity and on the cosmic clock. After all, rushing our own spirits in the crucible of experience can only lead to being half-baked.*p*One of my weaknesses is books. Like many book lovers, I sometimes find myself buying the same book over and over again. Oh, it may have a different title and a different author, but you know what I mean. One such book for me is the collection of "Wisdom of the World's Religions." I have about half a dozen of this book, all with different editors and contents. I think they're great. There's nothing like sitting back to read the wisest writings of the spiritual masters of every tradition and realizing...what? That they are all the same? Certainly not! That they are all describing different paths on the way to the same goal? Honestly, not even that! I know that it's popular to say things like that. "We are all moving upward on the same mountain, we are just taking different paths! All traditions are really the same at their origin!" Even a cursory reading comparing the means and ends of, say Buddhism and Judaism, is a certain cure for this odd mistruth that sounds so good.*p*What is true is that there is almost nothing that is interchangeable among the religions of the world, apart from their humanity. There are comparisons to be made, certainly. But to approach different traditions as if they are modular furniture is a mistake. They do not have one goal. It is tempting to say that they all have as an objective the attainment of human perfection. This is a tenet of the New Age. It is also mistaken. Such a goal may fit with Christianity and Buddhism; it does not appear in Judaism and Shamanism. Perhaps it would be better to say that each tradition is its own mountain, each with a spiral path to the peak. If they have anything at all in common it is that they reach toward the same sky; a sky that, even from the peaks, is intangible and undefinable even as its wind rushes to fill us.*p*You can't mix mountains without tearing them down, and when you do you have nothing but a pile. Mixing traditions creates a path to nothing. It takes from them what is most pleasing to the spiritual dilettante, at least in the short run. It leaves behind anything that may require commitment, sacrifice, discipline and the other spices of life. The result can only be mediocrity. The film Amadeus ends with the character Salieri, who had chosen to create a reality that best suited him rather than to accept the dignity of the role that had been given to him, being pushed through an asylum, blessing his fellow patients with mediocrity, saying, "I am its priest." Spiritual mediocrity is eventually the realm of insanity, since it chooses to see blessings where nothing lives.*p*What if you are on your spiritual search? What if you aren't sure where to be planted? Are you that dilettante, picking and choosing, doing nothing well? You don't have to be. "To those who give much, much will be given." Give much. Dig deep. Show respect, above all. Sometimes we meet families that we wish were ours. Blood and DNA prevent that from ever happening in the deepest ways. But a spiritual tradition offers adoption that is complete and comprehensive down to the soul, if that is what you need and want, and if that is what you are willing to give. It might be the church of your parents to which you return as an adult child who really understands. It might be a completely new place. Don't just scratch surfaces. Dig until you're sure it's right or it isn't. If it isn't, respectfully withdraw and look elsewhere. H.L. Mencken once said, "We must respect the other fellow's religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart." If it is the right one, then is the time to rejoice and share that good news of your beautiful new family that tells you every moment in the light of the sun and moon, "Welcome home!"*p*--Beirdd*p*