Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Celebration of Discipline #2
In Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline, I was interested to see the comparison of a spiritual take on service versus the usually-secular "community service" idea we have in society. Foster claims "self-righteous service comes through human effort ... so we can 'help those people'" and is not true service, which is the "grace of humility" (130). Service is mainly a hidden service, and receives very little recognition if any by others. When we engage in service, we have to be sure that we are approaching it for the goal of being unknown and lifting up others, instead of for the feel-good result of being recognized for your work. I can remember as a kid picking up food pantry donations every Friday at our church for years with my parents, after which we brought them to the food bank to be handed out the following morning. I always wondered if anyone knew who picked up the food, and imagined having some sort of recognition for doing it for years. Since I was so young I obviously wasn't engaging in this service to humbly serve other people, and while I recognized that what we were doing was "good" because I had been told it was, it seemed weird that doing something good had no tangible impact on my own life. Overall, I think our society does have a good representation of service because whether or not the organization takes on spiritual beliefs, the motives often remain the same (to help people). Most people, if they encountered a "service" organization that was self-serving, would be very uncomfortable. This is why we choose to donate to charities which spend significant percentages of their donations on the people they purport to serve and not on themselves through administrative costs. While there is evidence that our society does support selfless service, there are far fewer people who actually take the time to engage in it.
Celebration of Discipline #1
Many topics are covered by Richard Foster in his book Celebration of Discipline on spiritual growth. One that I took specific note of was a chapter on "The Discipline of Solitude." Solitude and aloneness in general is something that I am interested in studying because it's often something I reject in my own life. Although I greatly enjoy hiking and being outdoors, I often wish when I am alone that I had someone to share the experience with. Sometimes I find myself already formulating the story that I will tell my friends once I get back to them instead of fully enjoying what's right in front of me.
Foster writes that "Without silence there is no solitude. Though silence sometimes involves the absence of speech, it always involves the act of listening" (98). Silence is another thing I often struggle with, because I often get anxious that I am wasting my time. I love to listen to audiobooks and podcasts while I am traveling or doing some menial task, because it allows me to discover and learn new things while I would otherwise be occupied. If I am driving without any music or discussion going on at all, things feel quite odd to me. I have noticed, though, that even though I avoid silence I do have some of my best opportunities to think when they are forced upon me. In a wilderness setting, it is easier to rationalize being in silence because it seems wrong to disrespect the sights and sounds nature is giving you by adding your own soundtrack over it. In regular society, we see that everything has been constructed around us, and that also instructs us to engineer what we want to be hearing.
To suggest when to go about seeking silence, Foster suggests "slip outside just before bed and taste the silent night. These tiny snatches of time are often lost to us ... they are times for inner quiet, for reorienting our lives like a compass needle" (106). It was with this idea that I connected the dislike for solitude with the dislike for silence. We determined in class that being in the wilderness is a liminal experience, which allows us to reorder our priorities and discover what controls us. Silence, in a similar way, allows us to have thoughts and experience things that we would have otherwise covered up with incessant noise, sometimes just for the sake of having something to listen to. I think this process, while helpful, is often initially unwanted. If we have a chance between taking time to be silent and seeing our friends, we (or I, at least) usually choose the latter until I am so fed up with society that I need silence. I think a good goal would be to equalize these times in life and choose true silence just as often through enjoyable activities like hiking.
Foster writes that "Without silence there is no solitude. Though silence sometimes involves the absence of speech, it always involves the act of listening" (98). Silence is another thing I often struggle with, because I often get anxious that I am wasting my time. I love to listen to audiobooks and podcasts while I am traveling or doing some menial task, because it allows me to discover and learn new things while I would otherwise be occupied. If I am driving without any music or discussion going on at all, things feel quite odd to me. I have noticed, though, that even though I avoid silence I do have some of my best opportunities to think when they are forced upon me. In a wilderness setting, it is easier to rationalize being in silence because it seems wrong to disrespect the sights and sounds nature is giving you by adding your own soundtrack over it. In regular society, we see that everything has been constructed around us, and that also instructs us to engineer what we want to be hearing.
To suggest when to go about seeking silence, Foster suggests "slip outside just before bed and taste the silent night. These tiny snatches of time are often lost to us ... they are times for inner quiet, for reorienting our lives like a compass needle" (106). It was with this idea that I connected the dislike for solitude with the dislike for silence. We determined in class that being in the wilderness is a liminal experience, which allows us to reorder our priorities and discover what controls us. Silence, in a similar way, allows us to have thoughts and experience things that we would have otherwise covered up with incessant noise, sometimes just for the sake of having something to listen to. I think this process, while helpful, is often initially unwanted. If we have a chance between taking time to be silent and seeing our friends, we (or I, at least) usually choose the latter until I am so fed up with society that I need silence. I think a good goal would be to equalize these times in life and choose true silence just as often through enjoyable activities like hiking.
Nature
My initial reaction to "marveling" at the outdoors is the thought that I already know the outdoors -- I walk through it every day, and have been on many hiking trips both long and short. There are trees, there are squirrels, some water, grass, and a bunch of insects I still don't really want to touch me. It's hard to overcome this idea that nature is familiar and often boring. Nature itself doesn't seem to have any of the things we deem "interesting" -- it's only when we hear that a nice view can be had at the end of a hike that we'll see it as worth our time to walk through the woods to get to it. I often use nature as a means to an end, to satisfy a craving for seeing something cool or having an awesome experience in the woods. Just as often, it's just to reinforce my own image as a hiker or someone who enjoys the outdoors. But all of these uses are just that: uses of nature. Being forced to be in nature with no real purpose or idea of what is supposed to happen is slightly disconcerting.
With a lack of goal, it's easier to find something new to take note of. What I found after sitting down was that in front of me was a line of ants crawling off towards a tree. I watched the ants and realized they were both heading towards and away from the tree, seeming to return off to under the log I was sitting on. I watched the ants as they interacted with each other in both directions, and was impressed to see there was some sort of communication going on. The ants returning from the tree would come fact to face with one heading in that direction, and they would both momentarily stop before splitting and heading in their respective directions. This happened multiple times on the way with any given ant, and the pause lasted less than a second. After watching for a while, I realized there were far more ants than I had initially noticed, that they were literally crawling all over the ground.
I tried to remember the last time I had taken more than 5 seconds to watch ants, and guessed it must have been more than 10 years ago. It's just not something you notice and stop to watch because of the tiny scale, but it's equally amazing that such a complex system is going on where you can barely see it. This reminded me of Buber's distinction between Experience and Encounter. Buber claims that an experience happens within and that those who have one do not participate in the world. That is, a person can have an experience of something that is entirely individual, and is between the I and the It. An encounter is between the I and the You; it is something that inherently involves another individual and exists between them. I believe that in most previous cases, my hikes in the woods followed the 'experience' line -- I went into nature with preconceived notions about what it would be like and what I wanted to get out of it. Thus, I treat an inherently separate and wild entity as an 'It' and not as a 'You'.
I began to wonder, though, whether one could consider being in nature such as this an encounter, since it does not necessarily include another individual. That is, what does it take to have a true encounter with nature? I, by observing nature, was not participating in the ant's journey. I did not communicate with the ants, but by observing them did have discoveries and thoughts brought on by their behavior. Buber says "True community does not come into being because people have feelings for each other (thought that is required, too), but rather on two accounts: all of them have to stand in a living, reciprocal relationship to a single living center, and they have to stand in a living, reciprocal relationship to one another." A simple viewing of nature is obviously separate from being in community with nature, and we usually think of community as being between two humans. But we would also think of a community of animals living together, like monkeys or possibly even ants. And if we lived more closely to nature we might consider ourselves to be apart of these relationships. However, we have transformed our world so much for our own benefit that we consider nature as something apart from ourselves.
To have an encounter with nature, I believe we must have a much closer constant relationship with it. This is often what people who engage in long-distance hikes do, and it's what we've considered as "shaking off the village." Not only does this allow one to be in a new mindset where they allow themselves to be removed from their normal modes, it allows them to consider themselves to be apart of a new community. Through Buber's logic, it's only when a true interaction of purpose takes place between two entities that they can truly encounter each other.
With a lack of goal, it's easier to find something new to take note of. What I found after sitting down was that in front of me was a line of ants crawling off towards a tree. I watched the ants and realized they were both heading towards and away from the tree, seeming to return off to under the log I was sitting on. I watched the ants as they interacted with each other in both directions, and was impressed to see there was some sort of communication going on. The ants returning from the tree would come fact to face with one heading in that direction, and they would both momentarily stop before splitting and heading in their respective directions. This happened multiple times on the way with any given ant, and the pause lasted less than a second. After watching for a while, I realized there were far more ants than I had initially noticed, that they were literally crawling all over the ground.
I tried to remember the last time I had taken more than 5 seconds to watch ants, and guessed it must have been more than 10 years ago. It's just not something you notice and stop to watch because of the tiny scale, but it's equally amazing that such a complex system is going on where you can barely see it. This reminded me of Buber's distinction between Experience and Encounter. Buber claims that an experience happens within and that those who have one do not participate in the world. That is, a person can have an experience of something that is entirely individual, and is between the I and the It. An encounter is between the I and the You; it is something that inherently involves another individual and exists between them. I believe that in most previous cases, my hikes in the woods followed the 'experience' line -- I went into nature with preconceived notions about what it would be like and what I wanted to get out of it. Thus, I treat an inherently separate and wild entity as an 'It' and not as a 'You'.
I began to wonder, though, whether one could consider being in nature such as this an encounter, since it does not necessarily include another individual. That is, what does it take to have a true encounter with nature? I, by observing nature, was not participating in the ant's journey. I did not communicate with the ants, but by observing them did have discoveries and thoughts brought on by their behavior. Buber says "True community does not come into being because people have feelings for each other (thought that is required, too), but rather on two accounts: all of them have to stand in a living, reciprocal relationship to a single living center, and they have to stand in a living, reciprocal relationship to one another." A simple viewing of nature is obviously separate from being in community with nature, and we usually think of community as being between two humans. But we would also think of a community of animals living together, like monkeys or possibly even ants. And if we lived more closely to nature we might consider ourselves to be apart of these relationships. However, we have transformed our world so much for our own benefit that we consider nature as something apart from ourselves.
To have an encounter with nature, I believe we must have a much closer constant relationship with it. This is often what people who engage in long-distance hikes do, and it's what we've considered as "shaking off the village." Not only does this allow one to be in a new mindset where they allow themselves to be removed from their normal modes, it allows them to consider themselves to be apart of a new community. Through Buber's logic, it's only when a true interaction of purpose takes place between two entities that they can truly encounter each other.
Phenomenology #2
When considering how prayer practices might apply to wilderness travels, one of the aspects of traditional worship which almost entirely fails to carry over is communal prayer. In my experience at least, the nature of a wilderness trail like the Appalachian Trail (and hiking in general) is very much solitary. Hikers are allowed and encouraged to have and share whatever beliefs they hold, but the inherent nature of the trail is antagonistic towards community in a traditional sense. Because each hiker is taking on a certain number of miles each day and walking along a path rarely wide enough for more than one person, the trail becomes inherently individual. The individual hiker is encouraged to "hike their own hike" and to engage with others but not to demand that a regular community emerges out of the non-structured environment.
Benson & Wirzba discuss communal prayer in chapter 11, where they speak of the Lord's Prayer and claim "'Our Father' is a prayer spoken in the first person plural rather than the first-person singular, implying that prayer is something done in community" (156). In this spirit, a large chunk of the Bible is spent building and encouraging the community of Christians to support and worship with one another. While it is obviously important to have such a group of fellow believers in one's faith, the authors claim, citing Levinas, that "it is not possible to have an individual relationship with God." (157). One of the reasons why we find this claim to be somewhat outrageous is because we often see examples of how prayer has been distorted when used in public. When we say prayer before dinner around the table, we are obviously aware of the other people who hear what we say and judge our requests and words to God, and therefore we create a very scripted, predictable, and surface-level prayer. When in a public setting we are quick to notice those who kneel on the ground or put their hands up to embrace music. We believe that it is only away from other ears where we can be alone with God and to properly converse.
This is certainly the sense that some people undertake when engaging on a hike on the Appalachian Trail. Though not all hikers are the religious sort, a good deal of them are attempting to find their relationship with God or to come upon a purpose in their life from him. This practice is harder to do in our society, where there is so much noise and input from others that it is difficult to determine what is from God and what is not. Therefore, if one removes themselves from society and communes with the natural world as it was created, the idea is that it is easier to determine what God is saying. Hikers then rarely go to the trail for the purpose of praying with others, though they may do so when the opportunity arises. The communities where this is possible on the trail are always transient: one may come upon a church hostel or a shelter of other believers for the night where discussion and prayer can take place. Or the encounter may be with a sole individual on the path for a couple of hours. It is difficult in these circumstances to feel rooted in a community of believers, because the entire philosophy of rooting oneself is all but thrown away on a thru-hike.
It is obvious that there are benefits and drawbacks to undertaking such a journey from a spiritual standpoint. Benson & Wirzba conclude that ultimately "prayer ... is part of a spiritual economy which is concerned with giving and ... loving" (162). In this view, there is certainly no lack of prayer on the Appalachian Trail, even among those who don't seem to be engaging in it. Giving and loving is the focal point of almost all "trail magic" which graces travelers with food and good deeds to assist their journey. In this view, almost all prayer on the trail is public and communal prayer.
Benson & Wirzba discuss communal prayer in chapter 11, where they speak of the Lord's Prayer and claim "'Our Father' is a prayer spoken in the first person plural rather than the first-person singular, implying that prayer is something done in community" (156). In this spirit, a large chunk of the Bible is spent building and encouraging the community of Christians to support and worship with one another. While it is obviously important to have such a group of fellow believers in one's faith, the authors claim, citing Levinas, that "it is not possible to have an individual relationship with God." (157). One of the reasons why we find this claim to be somewhat outrageous is because we often see examples of how prayer has been distorted when used in public. When we say prayer before dinner around the table, we are obviously aware of the other people who hear what we say and judge our requests and words to God, and therefore we create a very scripted, predictable, and surface-level prayer. When in a public setting we are quick to notice those who kneel on the ground or put their hands up to embrace music. We believe that it is only away from other ears where we can be alone with God and to properly converse.
This is certainly the sense that some people undertake when engaging on a hike on the Appalachian Trail. Though not all hikers are the religious sort, a good deal of them are attempting to find their relationship with God or to come upon a purpose in their life from him. This practice is harder to do in our society, where there is so much noise and input from others that it is difficult to determine what is from God and what is not. Therefore, if one removes themselves from society and communes with the natural world as it was created, the idea is that it is easier to determine what God is saying. Hikers then rarely go to the trail for the purpose of praying with others, though they may do so when the opportunity arises. The communities where this is possible on the trail are always transient: one may come upon a church hostel or a shelter of other believers for the night where discussion and prayer can take place. Or the encounter may be with a sole individual on the path for a couple of hours. It is difficult in these circumstances to feel rooted in a community of believers, because the entire philosophy of rooting oneself is all but thrown away on a thru-hike.
It is obvious that there are benefits and drawbacks to undertaking such a journey from a spiritual standpoint. Benson & Wirzba conclude that ultimately "prayer ... is part of a spiritual economy which is concerned with giving and ... loving" (162). In this view, there is certainly no lack of prayer on the Appalachian Trail, even among those who don't seem to be engaging in it. Giving and loving is the focal point of almost all "trail magic" which graces travelers with food and good deeds to assist their journey. In this view, almost all prayer on the trail is public and communal prayer.
Phenomenology #1
Benson & Wirzba introduce us to the idea of an "Earthly Economy" wherein "we pray to God for some object and often promise something to God, some sacrifice on our part, in return" (63). This obviously seems quite lopsided on first inspection: a human offers something to God in return for something God will give to him. Certainly whatever man has to offer to God is completely useless if one believes that God is the creator of all things. What man wants or expects from God, is usually a sort of miraculous intervention. They go on to point out: "What benefit could the gods receive from us?" (63) and then to explain how this can be so primarily through kenosis, or self-emptying. I believe that this explanation does make sense, especially when one is considering a "wholly other" God who has no interest in us or our possessions, possibly a view of an indifferent God.
However, it does seem to me like the premise of this "earthly economy" doesn't quite make sense when thinking about a God who created and cares for us. Many religious people believe that God created everything, humans and their possessions included, and that often times those possessions are gifts from God himself. Furthermore, it is commonly understood that God has a plan for people's lives, and does not want them to go astray or to be influenced by forces of evil. In these beliefs, it is more clear to see how humans and God can communicate and make exchanges. The idea that a human who makes a personal sacrifice cannot benefit God at all is at odds with the idea that God cares about us. If God cares about us, one would understand he would empathize with the sacrifice being made at the level it is being made. The biblical story of the Widow's Offering provides evidence for this idea -- even though Jesus is God incarnate and has no need at all for coins or human currency, he sees the offering as more worthy than the money of the rich. This suggests that God sees sacrifices as the sacrifices seem to us. It makes sense, then, that if we are able to make requests and attach sacrifices to them which are truly sacrifices for us, this notion of the "earthly economy" is removed. As for whether sacrifices should be offered contingent upon a fulfilled request, that's another story.
However, it does seem to me like the premise of this "earthly economy" doesn't quite make sense when thinking about a God who created and cares for us. Many religious people believe that God created everything, humans and their possessions included, and that often times those possessions are gifts from God himself. Furthermore, it is commonly understood that God has a plan for people's lives, and does not want them to go astray or to be influenced by forces of evil. In these beliefs, it is more clear to see how humans and God can communicate and make exchanges. The idea that a human who makes a personal sacrifice cannot benefit God at all is at odds with the idea that God cares about us. If God cares about us, one would understand he would empathize with the sacrifice being made at the level it is being made. The biblical story of the Widow's Offering provides evidence for this idea -- even though Jesus is God incarnate and has no need at all for coins or human currency, he sees the offering as more worthy than the money of the rich. This suggests that God sees sacrifices as the sacrifices seem to us. It makes sense, then, that if we are able to make requests and attach sacrifices to them which are truly sacrifices for us, this notion of the "earthly economy" is removed. As for whether sacrifices should be offered contingent upon a fulfilled request, that's another story.
Image and Pilgrimage #2
Turner & Turner in Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture wrap up their studies by noting that "when a religious system becomes tightly structured and organized, ... its pilgrimages tend to revert from the liminoid to the liminal or 'pseudo-liminal'; that is, they 'regress' from voluntaristic processes to become pseudo-tribal, initiatory institutions, stressing relics, ritualistic acts, and the 'miraculous' properties of wells, trees, places where saints stood or rested, and other concrete objects associated with holy individuals" (232). To me this is an excellent example of Lane's caution that when one attempts to study and find the root of a myth, it ceases to have meaning. In this way pilgrimages that were once meaningful for people in a specific way are forced to take on the same meaning for future pilgrims, and becomes an "on-rails" experience that one might have in a theme park ride. I believe that the Appalachian Trail viewed as a pilgrimage is a good way to look at how this caution can be put into use.
Hikers on the Appalachian Trail often take the mantra "hike your own hike" to heart. This is a secular embodiment of Turner & Turner's observation because it is designed to avoid the creation of an experience on the trail. Hike your own hike means that you should encounter and move along the trail at your own pace and however you prefer to do so, provided that it respects the environment. Some hikers are comfortable with taking side trails or separate means of transportation to cover the distance, and some wish to walk every step of the way along the marked path. This idea accepts both of these means of travel and more, because it inherently understands that two different people will have very different hiking experiences even along the same trail. While there is a marked path, it remains merely a suggestion and hikers are allowed and even encouraged to deviate when they see fit. This flexibility allows hikers to have their own experiences and attach their own meaning to their journey, instead of being forced to encounter the trail in the same way that the very first thru-hikers did, which might be meaningful for some but not for others.
Hikers on the Appalachian Trail often take the mantra "hike your own hike" to heart. This is a secular embodiment of Turner & Turner's observation because it is designed to avoid the creation of an experience on the trail. Hike your own hike means that you should encounter and move along the trail at your own pace and however you prefer to do so, provided that it respects the environment. Some hikers are comfortable with taking side trails or separate means of transportation to cover the distance, and some wish to walk every step of the way along the marked path. This idea accepts both of these means of travel and more, because it inherently understands that two different people will have very different hiking experiences even along the same trail. While there is a marked path, it remains merely a suggestion and hikers are allowed and even encouraged to deviate when they see fit. This flexibility allows hikers to have their own experiences and attach their own meaning to their journey, instead of being forced to encounter the trail in the same way that the very first thru-hikers did, which might be meaningful for some but not for others.
Image and Pilgrimage #1
Turner & Turner offer an interesting warning in Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture that can be easily overlooked. It reads on page 9: "Pilgrimage, then, offers liberation from profane social structures that are symbolic with a specific religious system, but they do this only in order to intensify the pilgrim's attachment to his own religion, often in fanatical opposition to other religions. That is why some pilgrimages have become crusades and jihads." This is so wildly against the idea of a pilgrimage, it is strange that it is so common as to be mentioned in the introduction to the book. In our society we certainly see the fanatical opposition mentioned, even among those who have not been on a traditional pilgrimage.
What Turner & Turner are speaking about is the ability for a sacred pilgrimage to intensify a pilgrim's beliefs in a specific religion, often due to the fullness of its presence and acceptance in the culture around them. Walking the Appalachian Trail, one might expect to see a mix of religious, spiritual-but-not-religious, and secular hikers. Walking the Camino de Santiago, one would expect most pilgrims to be Christians, although not all are. Walking to Mecca, one would expect to see almost completely Muslim pilgrims. This shows us that there are degrees of traditionally and isolation in pilgrimages. However, the purpose of a pilgrimage is to search for spiritual significance, to be tried as a human and tested in one's faith to determine what is true. I would argue that the purpose of a pilgrimage is not to be isolated with fellow believers, but to be surrounded by many different ideas so that the truth can shine more brightly in comparison.
It is probably true that the degree of separation from opposing viewpoints can increase the chances that the pilgrim will take on fanatical views, and if so this effect can also take place outside of a traditional pilgrimage. I believe that in our recent election cycle this has been shown in full force, with a truly fanatical opposition by some Christian voters to Muslim immigrants. When one surrounds oneself with only those of the same faith and does not allow their views to be tested, it is easy to take on these radical beliefs and be so strongly opposed to others. After all, if a true pilgrim walks so many miles and encounters so many different ways of thinking about the world, how is it possible to condemn people so quickly for what they believe?
What Turner & Turner are speaking about is the ability for a sacred pilgrimage to intensify a pilgrim's beliefs in a specific religion, often due to the fullness of its presence and acceptance in the culture around them. Walking the Appalachian Trail, one might expect to see a mix of religious, spiritual-but-not-religious, and secular hikers. Walking the Camino de Santiago, one would expect most pilgrims to be Christians, although not all are. Walking to Mecca, one would expect to see almost completely Muslim pilgrims. This shows us that there are degrees of traditionally and isolation in pilgrimages. However, the purpose of a pilgrimage is to search for spiritual significance, to be tried as a human and tested in one's faith to determine what is true. I would argue that the purpose of a pilgrimage is not to be isolated with fellow believers, but to be surrounded by many different ideas so that the truth can shine more brightly in comparison.
It is probably true that the degree of separation from opposing viewpoints can increase the chances that the pilgrim will take on fanatical views, and if so this effect can also take place outside of a traditional pilgrimage. I believe that in our recent election cycle this has been shown in full force, with a truly fanatical opposition by some Christian voters to Muslim immigrants. When one surrounds oneself with only those of the same faith and does not allow their views to be tested, it is easy to take on these radical beliefs and be so strongly opposed to others. After all, if a true pilgrim walks so many miles and encounters so many different ways of thinking about the world, how is it possible to condemn people so quickly for what they believe?
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