Are we there yet?

I had intended this morning to re-read as much as possible of the chapter in Karen Armstrong's book, A History of God, on the "God of the Philosophers," but rather absentmindedly, I left it on my desk in my work office, so that it was unaccesible to me. I picked up, instead, Paul Tillich's book, The Eternal Now. It is, perhaps, a testament to laziness that the price on the cover of my trade paperback version is $2.95, and I have never completely read the whole book. I suspect that, at the time I bought it, I got it because some older (and probably wiser) individual had spoken of his/her admiration for Tillich, and I was just imitating. I also suspect that, at the time, I was rather still immersed, as it were, in the theistic God, and Tillich's gentle despair and quiet hope did not quite so much appeal to me at the time.

As I struggle with the philosophical discussion of "God" and religion and Christianity, I am always holding in the opposite hand the "practical" side of things. By this, I do not necessarily mean a "faith and works" dichotomy such that this opposite hand is that of "ethical action" like some sort of divinely inspired social work. That certainly is included, but it is more than that. Once again, it is the direct "experience" of "God." "the spirit," "the numinous," "the holy,"---call it what you will. Furthermore, it is the fundamental question of "Is there a religious experience, or it is all just delusional?" There is, of course, a deep paradox at the very center of this. How can I experience something that "is not?" If "God" or "the numinous" does not exist, then how can I experience it?

But before I fall into the silence that seems to descend every time we encounter one of these "Christian Koans," maybe I should go back to Tillich for a second. It was in thinking about "experiential" religion, that I was drawn to read his sermon "Spiritual Presence." First, his definition:

For Spirit is first of all power, the power that drives the human spirit above itself towards what it cannot attain by itself, the love that is greater than all other gifts, the truth in which the depth of being opens itself to us, the holy that is the manifestation of the presence of the ultimate.

Tillich then introduces a discussant who objects to his "definition" of Spirit:

...What I hear from you sounds like ecstasy; and I want to stay sober. It sounds like mystery, and I try to illuminate what is dark. It sounds like self-sacrifice and I want to fulfill my human possibilities.

Tillich goes on to admit that "Spiritual power" does all of these things (i.e. provoke ecstasy, invoke mystery, inspire self-sacrifice), but it does a great deal more as well. In a long series of examples, he goes on to credit this "spiritual" power as the motivator/mover/ground of all sorts of ways in which humans exceed their lowest or most base or self-serving motives. (Dare I suggest the term "transcendence" for this?) I'll give a few examples (with lots of omissions):

The Spirit can work in you with a soft but insistent voice, telling you that your life is empty and meaningless, but that there are chances of a new life waiting before the door of your inner self....The Spirit can work in you, awakening the desire to strive towards the sublime against the profanity of the average day. The Spirit can reveal to you that you have hurt somebody deeply, but it also can give you the right word that reunites him with you...The Spirit can make you love...someone you profoundly dislike or in whom you have no interest..

For Tillich, this Spiritual power or presence is always there, in, around, under, through all that is. "Mostly it is moving air, always present, not always noticed." It is a good experiential "argument" of rather the "movement" requires a "mover" and inasmuch as these "movements" are not always particularly the "low road" then a "higher mover" than ourselves may be reasponsible for them. It is that "something" that makes us try to be "more" than selfish, and it is that "something" that makes us feel badly when we ignore it and act in a self-serving way to the harm of others.

After this, however, his sermon takes a fascinating turn. It is the "Spiritual Presence" that is the reason for our experience of the "absent God." Tillich again:

It is the work of the Spirit that removes God from our sight, not only for some men, but sometimes for many in a particular period. We live in an era in which the God we know is the absent God. But in knowing God as the absent God, we know of Him; we feel His absence as the empty space that is left by something or someone that once belonged to us and has now vanished from our view....when our awareness of Him has become shallow, habitual--not warm and not cold--when He has become too familiar to be exciting....then He becomes the absent God. The Spirit has not ceased to be present. The Spiritual Presence can never end. But the Spirit of God hides God from our sight. ..the Spirit shows us nothing except the absent God, and the empty space...

I must give him credit for what is a pretty good argument against religious authority that seeks to defend "the deposit of faith" like it was some sort of celestial financial grant that has to be invested very cautiously always making sure that the "principal" is not put at risk. Here Tillich makes the "Spirit of God" that which is responsible for the "absence of God." Put again, it is God himself who snuffs out God. If God is the "ultimate authority" (for those who think like that), then it is hard to argue with him when his Spirit says that he does not exist. (Oh no, another "Christian Koan.")

Tillich concludes his sermon with a cautionary note, as it were, about the "works of the spirit." In trying to answer what this spirtual life is like, he first proposes and then rejects many "traditional" answers. We could say, traditionally for example, that the works of the Spirit are "Faith" or "Hope" or "Love."

But if I used such words, the shadow of the absent God would appear and make you and me aware that we cannot speak like this today. If we did, freedom would be distorted into willfulness, faith into belief in the absurd, hope into unreal expectations, and love--the word I would most like to use for the creation of the Spirit--into sentimental feeling. The Spirit must give us new words, or revitalize old words to express true life. We must wait for them; we must pray for them; we cannot force them.

Impatience makes me want these words now. It is rather like the old car trip joke where the kids keep asking, "Are we there yet?" And, make no mistake (did I just use President Bush's favorite phrase?---gads), I want, perhaps desire to get there. In the meantime, however, I must be careful not to forget to enjoy the view on the way.

Jeffrey Shy
"I'm not there yet"
Mesa, Arizona