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Living by the Word Romans 13:8-14

In January 1990, as Operation Desert Storm was lighting up the skies over Iraq. I was asked to preach on Romans 13.

My Mennonite tradition has always had an uneasy relationship to Romans 13. Rather than try again to search for a way of reading it that would not subvert Jesus' call to love the enemy, or Paul's to pursue the stranger with love, I decided to preach on the second half of the chapter.

Scholars have long wondered whether someone slipped the first half of Romans 13 into Paul's letter after his death, perhaps when other texts asking Christians to be subordinate to governing authorities (state, husband, father, boss) became part of the New Testament. I suspect that this is not the case, but 13:8 does seem to pick up the energy and the spirit evident at the end of chapter 12: "Owe no one anything, except to love one another." In this second half of Romans 13 we see Paul, a radical Jew, excited about the dawning of the day of liberation, and calling on his readers to live as those who have already tasted of that freedom--and to do so in how they love not only each other, but strangers and enemies.

Yes, "radical Jew." We know of Paul's radically hospitable stance toward non-Jewish believers in Jesus when it came to circumcision. Here he lets everyone know that he is not an enemy of the Torah, even if the conclusions he draws from the Jewish conviction that love is both core and apex of Torah observance place him in tension with many Jews, including those who follow Jesus.

Paul's views about what God is up to with the cosmos are just as radical. Along with many Jews, Paul looks forward with great anticipation to the arrival of God's cosmos-transforming reign. But Paul believes not only that the great day of liberation is about to dawn (he evidently underestimates the time it will take), but also that believers are not to be bystanders in that dawning. In a way reminiscent of his first letter to the Thessalonians (5:8), he summons believers to "put on the armor of light." The militants down at the Dead Sea, one of whose documents was titled "The War of the Sons of Light Against the Sons of Darkness," would have understood its radical implications with regard to the Roman imperial machine. Lest his militancy be misunderstood, Paul parses this summons with the parallel phrase: "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh."

Paul is surely recalling for the Romans their baptism and how, after being immersed in the watery grave (Rom. 6:4), they put on new garments signifying their identification with the risen Messiah Jesus. For this radical Jew that could only mean being implicated in the dawning of the great day, and in the mission of the Messiah to reconcile the world with God.

But Christ as weapon? Paul envisions the life of believers, individually and corporately, as a grace-full "war" against an age marked by darkness--exploitation, subjugation, enslavement--a struggle in which the "Christ weapons" are made of light: zealous love of strangers and enemies, wily grace, inventive nonretaliation. That is what it means to put on Christ. Now perhaps we can more fully understand the importance that Romans 12 places on pursuit and victory.

If the first seven verses of Romans 13 did not exist, we might not have noticed their absence. Even so, they are part of our canon. Our considerations of the last halves of both chapters 12 and 13 should caution us, however, never to read the first half of Romans 13 apart from its envelope, namely, the crystal clear call not to be conformed, not to participate in the conflict and violence that Paul terms "the works of darkness," but rather to be transformed, to love above all else, and thereby to put on the "armor of light," that is, the Lord Jesus Christ.

The various Christian traditions do not agree on whether Christians should participate in war. What if, in our ongoing discernment, we made the starting point our shared experience of God's love of enemy in Christ and the worship in life and thought to which it summons us? What if we recalled over and over again that at our baptism we "put on the Lord Jesus Christ," and with that his way of pursuing threats and enemies with love and the offer of reconciliation? What if we subordinated the first half of Romans 13 to the second half, at least until we could stop the first half from subverting our faithfulness when it is most needed? How differently might the past few years have turned out if we had done so? How much might the next few yet be transformed?

 

 

The Story of Liam Q

In 1981, at the age of 17, my friend Liam Q. did what many adventurous Kansas farm boys do: he joined the U.S. Navy to see the world. His test scores marked him for further training in a technical specialty, but Liam wanted to steer an aircraft carrier, so the navy made him a helmsman. Even today he gets excited when describing the delicate maneuvers required for a ship-to-ship resupply in rough seas.

As every sailor knows, shore leave is the most dangerous part of any cruise. This turned out to be true for Liam. At the naval base in Norfolk, Virginia, he fell in love with an older woman and was convicted of shooting her husband. In 1983, at the age of 19, he embarked on a different kind of cruise: a life sentence "up the river."

Liam was a typical murderer in two respects: he was young, and he knew his victim. Most homicides are committed not by strangers, but by young people who lash out at friends or family. These acts are often difficult to comprehend; they frequently are attributable to a confusing mixture of youthful angst, ragtag hormones, alcohol and drugs.

In those days, lifers entering the prison system were given a fairly standard orientation speech by their counselors. "Son, I know life seems hopeless right now," they were told, "but I am here to tell you that there is light at the end of the tunnel. If you keep your nose clean and don't break the rules--and if you do something to improve yourself while you're in here--then you can expect to leave this place one day. You're going to come up for parole for the first time 15 years from now, and of course you're not going to make it. But there's a good chance you'll make it on your third or fourth parole attempt, when you've served 18 or 19 years, if you can show the parole board that you've changed. So you can make it through this life sentence if you'll try."

That speech is no longer being given to fresh fish like Liam in many places today, because parole was abolished in a number of U.S. states during the 1990s and educational programs behind bars have been severely cut back.

But before we examine the shifting tides of correctional philosophy, let us spend a few moments to consider the old-fashioned, much-maligned, now vanishing parole system under which Liam began his sentence. What should strike us immediately is that it rewarded individuals for individual performance--the essence of applied conservative social theory. By contrast, consider the modern no-parole system, under which prisoners must serve a predetermined number of years--or, in the case of lifers like Liam, their entire lives--regardless of whether they better themselves or not. This is a case of one-size-fits-all bureaucratic thinking--individual differences, performance and initiative are sacrificed to the system.

Fortunately for Liam, parole still existed when he entered the Virginia Department of Corrections in 1983. Thus he began his life sentence with some version of the prison counselor's speech above, with light at the end of a very long tunnel.

At first, he ignored that distant hope completely. Prison affords a variety of opportunities to indulge despair, including every kind of drug imaginable, homebrewed alcohol, the tattoo subculture, situational homosexuality, gambling in its many forms, and the Dungeons & Dragons subculture. Liam fell prey to some of these dubious delights, as the Celtic tattoos on his biceps still attest. Since he could see no future, his present descended into near-total darkness.

Then, some years into his sentence, Liam ran across The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin--and his life changed. Across a 200-year divide. Ben Franklin, the archetypal American self-made man, persuaded a hopeless, young, life-sentenced convict that anyone could bootstrap his way out of misery. All it took was consistent hard work and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. Much like other inmates who read the Bible and find Jesus, Liana had discovered a good book and a savior. And Liam actually practiced what Franklin preached. One week at a time, Liam strove to acquire each of Franklin's 13 virtues, like thrift and prudence. Once he completed the list, he began anew, repeating the cycle four times annually. Liam followed this program for years.

A central feature of Franklin's philosophy was the importance of lifelong learning, whether the subject be new agricultural methods or the nature of electricity. While Liam did not go so far as to fly a kite in a thunderstorm, he did enroll in a four-year apprenticeship program as an electrician. His evenings were spent at community college classes, then still widely available and free of charge. After earning his degree, he studied Spanish, mathematics, physics and the real estate business through mail-order texts paid for by family members. Later he taught other prisoners these subjects at night--for a small gratuity, of course, since his mentor, Franklin, was also an astute entrepreneur. For fun and relaxation Liam learned how to crochet and cross stitch, on the principle that no skill is too humble for a true Renaissance man.

Around this time in the late 1980s, the first few computers began to filter into the correctional system. Prison administrators had little use for or interest in these strange new devices, but Liam was entranced by them. He ordered yet more textbooks through the mail and soon was in a position to explain to staff members how to operate their PCs. In the prison's maintenance department, where Liam had been working as a fully qualified electrician, the civilian supervisors made him their on-site information technology specialist, and he streamlined and computerized all processes from the ordering of spare parts to the scheduling of work orders. Word spread, and soon security staff started coming to him for help, too.

In the penitentiary, guards usually reward inmates for such extraordinary services with packs of cigarettes, bags of sugar (to brew "mash"), hardcore pornography or even drugs. The only payment Liam wants is more time on the computer, so he can keep on refining his skills.

Because Liam became particularly adept at desktop publishing, a reform-minded warden asked him a few years ago to manage and edit a quarterly newsletter for the inmate population. Liam turned this into his version of Poor Richard's Almanack, a compendium of practical advice ("how to avoid athlete's foot in penitentiary showers") and editorials on the power of positive thinking ("it's all about the choices we make"). The newsletter's banner would have made Ben Franklin proud: "To Encourage--To Inform--To Educate--To Inspire.

But for the past two years, Liam's energy for bootstrapping has been lagging. His newsletters appear less frequently. When I asked him recently to write down some aphorisms of Franklin's, he chose this one: "He that lives upon hope will die fasting." Having followed Franklin's gospel of perpetual self-improvement for more than two decades, Liam is discovering that there are some holes so deep that no amount of self-improvement can lift you out.

The promise Liam's prison counselor made in 1983--that he could expect to be paroled after 19 years if he could demonstrate change--was broken in 2002. At this writing, Liam is in the 25th year of his incarceration, and there is no realistic prospect of release--ever. So he is slowly slipping back into the state of complete despair in which he began his life sentence.

What has brought Franklin's most faithful disciple so low? Parole abolition, also known as "truth in sentencing," is a criminal-justice fad that swept the nation in the mid-1990s. Forty states enacted truth-in-sentencing statutes, which require felons to serve as much as a full 85 percent of their prison terms without any chance of parole; life sentences now truly mean life. At the time this sounded like a good, conservative, law-and-order response to crime. The Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994 offered prison construction grants and other financial incentives to states that passed truth-in-sentencing bills. Virginia's Republican governor (and later U.S. senator) George Allen was among the first to take the bait, abolishing parole in 1995. Now, the Virginia Department of Criminal Justice Services reports, "a large number of violent offenders are serving two, three or four times longer under truth-in-sentencing than criminals who committed similar offenses under the parole system."

The no-parole policy technically applies only to those offenders sentenced after the passage of the truth-in-sentencing statute. For a so-called old-law prisoner like Liam, the possibility of parole still exists in theory. But the Virginia parole board and its counterparts across America took careful note of the signs of the times--board members are political appointees--and dramatically cut back the number of discretionary discharges. In Virginia, for instance, the parole grant rate for all eligible male convicts typically ranges around 2.9 percent. The figure for lifers is close to 0 percent.

By virtually eliminating parole even for those life-sentenced inmates who are technically still eligible, Virginia is merely following a strong nationwide trend. The Sentencing Project reports that U.S. penitentiaries held 127,677 lifers in 2004, of whom only a few dozen are paroled each year. In California, with the nation's largest prison system, a federal district court found in 2005 that the parole board "operated under a sub rosa policy that all murderers [typically serving life terms] be found unsuitable for parole." According to the New York Times, "The United States has created something never before seen in its history and unheard of around the globe: a booming population of prisoners whose only way out of prison is likely to be inside a coffin."

The Bureau of Justice Statistics has determined that lifers released prior to 1995 have the lowest recidivism rate of any group of offenders--less than one-third the rate of property or drug offenders, for instance.

One simple but important reason that lifers on parole pose such a low risk is their age: even before truth-in-sentencing, virtually no lifers were released until they reached their late 30s. By that time, they had aged out of their crime-prone years, explains Virginia's attorney general Robert F. McDonnell: "Most serious crimes are committed by people between the ages of 18 and 32."

If abolishing parole for lifers does not make America's streets appreciably safer, what can explain the continuing popularity of this policy? That question has many answers: a punitive (as opposed to restorative) concept of justice, fear of crime, ignorance of criminological statistics, unfamiliarity with actual lifers like Liam, displaced aggression and frustration, and so on. What is often overlooked, however, is the role of money.

When the truth-in-sentencing concept was invented in the early 1990s by the American Legislative Exchange Council, it received massive federal support, making parole abolition its most successful legislative venture ever. On the committee that created the model statute sat representatives of the Corrections Corporation of America (CCA), one of the leading private prison operators in the nation.

Taxpayers see the $63 billion-a-year correctional system as another expensive government bureaucracy; each convict is an additional financial burden. Companies like CCA, on the other hand, see jail and prison budgets as a recession-proof goldmine; every inmate is worth $22,650, the annual per capita cost of incarceration. With 2.3 million convicts in the U.S., the money-making opportunities are extraordinary.

Beyond the CCA, the economic boon goes farther. Building the physical infrastructure to house this population affords $4.3 billion annually. Feeding convicts is the key to Aramark Correctional Services' success. The world's third-largest food services company provides a million meals a day to inmates in 1,500 private and government-operated facilities. Managing prison infirmaries is a business worth $2 billion per annum to Correctional Medical Services and Prison Health Services. Providing telephone services to convicts earns AT&T, Verizon, Sprint and others $1 billion a year. Putting inmates to work in factories and call centers behind walls generates another $1.5 billion worth of goods and services annually.

The financial incentive to keep lifers like Liam in prison is especially great. These men and women inevitably develop age-related medical problems as they grow old, raising their annual per capita cost of incarceration to $69,000. Once again, taxpayers may see this as bad news, but companies see a $69,000-a-year inmate as a cash cow.

Consider all the special, additional requirements of elderly convicts: wheelchair accessible dormitories, hip replacement surgery, low sodium and diabetic diets, etc. Is it any wonder that prisoners aged 55 and over are one of the fastest growing demographic groups in the correctional population? By 2025, one in four inmates will be elderly--a bonanza for the prison industry. Already 35 states have built so-called geriatric prisons, and 29 have even set up end-of-life units. In all likelihood, that is where Liam will die a few decades from now.

Ironically enough, the best hope of help that inmates like Liam may have comes from someone who once worked hard to enact truth-in-sentencing: Mark L. Earley, the former Republican attorney general of Virginia and current president of Prison Fellowship Ministries (PFM). During his ten years as state senator and four as attorney general, Earley spent most of his time "working on how to put more people in jail and keeping them there longer," he said in a speech at the Washington Convention Center. "I really pretty much had the view that prisoners were at the end of the line--that if you were in prison, you had no hope, you'd made a mess of your life, and it was better for me that you were there, because my family could be safe."

But Earley's attitude changed when he joined PFM following his 2001 defeat in Virginia's gubernatorial election. Riding his Harley-Davidson motorcycle from penitentiary to penitentiary to hold worship services, he met some of the men and women affected by truth-in-sentencing and similar policies. "I've seen an awful lot of prisoners that committed crimes in their late teens, early 20s," Earley told the Virginian-Pilot. "What happened was a terrible act of misguided youth.… Now they're in their 40s or 50s and they shouldn't be in prison any more." Earley gives newspaper interviews and appears on public television to lobby for change. "After a significant period of the sentence is served," he asks, "should we provide some opportunity for a look back?"

 

Living by The Word  Matt. 15: (10-20)

The problem with Matthew 15:21-28 lies in the portrait of Jesus as neither the Jesus we have come to know and love nor, if we are honest, a Jesus we particularly like. The optional verses in the lectionary (Matt. 15:10-20) may elicit Peter's reaction: "Explain yourself, Jesus!"

Critical to interpreting and preaching this passage, however, is to hold both Gennesaret (the location of vv. 10-20) and Tyre and Sidon together. In 14:34, Jesus and his disciples have landed at Gennesaret after the events of Jesus walking on water and stilling the storm. In Gennesaret, the Pharisees and scribes come to Jesus from Jerusalem and question him about issues regarding purity. It is in this context that we arrive at our optional pericope for this week. Jesus calls the crowd to him and addresses the disciples directly, essentially offering commentary on his dialogue with the Pharisees and continuing the focus on the question of defilement.

Then Jesus turns the issue of defilement or purity on its head by going into the gentile territory of Tyre and Sidon, two coastal cities in Phoenicia and north of the Galilean region. Verse 22 emphasizes not only the status of "a Canaanite woman" but also Jesus' location in Tyre and Sidon. Reminding us that Jesus is far from Galilee and Jerusalem suggests that defilement and purity are not determined by physical, attributable or demonstrative components (the argument of the Pharisees).

Yet, ironically, although purity or defilement is not determined by what one eats or where one is, purity is ultimately assessed by what one says and does. Jesus' geographical location after his conversation with the Pharisees does not seem coincidental. Situating Jesus in gentile country and reporting a conversation with a Canaanite suggests that what should defile does not and calls into question traditional views of defilement and purity. Jesus asks us the same questions. What are our operating assumptions about defilement or corruption? How do we determine and define what is pure and wholesome?

While many sermons on verses 21-28 have legitimately focused on the Canaanite woman's persistence of faith, another way to view this text takes into account that her faith was great not only because she was persistent, but also because her persistence demonstrates her faith. When she presses Jesus with her request, "Lord, help me," she shows what is in her heart. Her words and actions are the living out of her confession, "Lord, Son of David." Her faith in Jesus to heal her daughter compels her proclamation of her faith and her persistence in securing Jesus' response.

In effect, the Canaanite woman becomes the explanation of the parable that Peter, on behalf of the disciples, asks Jesus to give. She is the model of what it looks like when what is in the heart and what comes out of the mouth correlate. She is herself, according to all intents and purposes, in a constant state of defilement and impurity according to the standards set by her location, by the official representatives from Jerusalem and even by Jesus' disciples (who want her sent away). But Jesus reveals that traditions and traditionalism need questioning and rethinking when he enters a land that represents impurity, calls upon Isaiah to thwart the Pharisees and grants the woman's request. Her persistence, therefore, is not only representative of what comes from her heart or her faith; it suggests her own questioning and rethinking of traditional boundaries, ideas and rituals. We might even wonder if Jesus' response is not only to her demonstrative faith, but also to her willingness to challenge tradition as he has done.

To what extent, then, is this woman from Phoenicia, in her modeling of faith, defining what discipleship should be? Is discipleship not just following Jesus but also doing what Jesus does? In the exchange between Jesus and the Canaanite woman, Jesus shows his disciples what it means to make disciples of all nations. His location, actions and words all address the traditions, limitations and boundaries that the disciples will encounter. By pushing at, dismantling and crossing over the boundaries that the disciples might themselves put on "all nations," Jesus foreshadows his intention to declare the boundaries of the great commission to be limitless.

It is hardly accidental that the woman's "great faith" follows Peter's demonstration of "little faith" (14:31). The comparison suggests the importance of faith, but the interactions between the two characters and Jesus as well as the settings in which the exchanges take place suggest that there is more at stake. Aware of his limitations, Peter begins to sink into the stormy waters of the sea and then calls upon Jesus, "Lord, save me" (14:30). The woman, aware of her location and the limitations placed on her, does not succumb to them but brings them into the light and calls them into question: "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."

Jesus calls us to a similar kind of discipleship, a discipleship that exposes the boundaries set in place by others and the boundaries we place on ourselves. He calls us to a discipleship that is willing to go past these boundaries and journey into Tyre and Sidon, where Jesus promises to be to the end of the age.

Living by the Word Matthew 16:13-20

The conversation at Caesarea Philippi is a defining moment for the synoptic Gospels, although only Matthew and Mark name it as the location for Peter's confession, "You are the Messiah." For the Gospel narratives as post-Easter interpretations, reflections and perspectives, who Jesus is constitutes the most important question for those early communities that claimed belief in him. Putting the question on the lips of Jesus himself makes it a question for all believers, one which they must answer for themselves. The text itself indicates this deliberate move, not only in content but also in form. Jesus first asks the question from a third-person perspective: "Who do people say that I am?" But then the grammar shifts to the second person, "Who do you say that I am?"

Jesus directs the question to all of the disciples, but only Peter stands up to answer. The purpose of including his response may be to highlight the importance of his role in the early church. As Jesus says, "You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church." Yet the distinction between a general address to the disciples and the individual response of Peter suggests that each believer must offer a personal reply. It is not enough to respond to Jesus' question with what other people think, to repeat what other people say, to accede to popular assent. Confession demands belief, but it also necessitates articulation, for the sake of our own affirmations and for the sake of that which is confessed. Peter's answer, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God," calls into existence and meaning the very thing to which he gives voice.

In Matthew, Mark and Luke, Peter's answer to Jesus' question is followed by the first of Jesus' predictions of his suffering and death. A majority of commentators on this event emphasize that Peter misunderstands and that Jesus, knowing that Peter needs to understand what confessing Jesus as the Christ will mean, addresses any misunderstanding by foretelling his own suffering and death. Peter rebukes Jesus for this--not because of any possible suffering for himself, but because of the possibility that Jesus will suffer. Is this another example of Peter not understanding what Jesus means? In what sense is Peter's suffering more acceptable than that of his Master? Is Peter's idea of messiahship being challenged, and the new portrayal not one that he can accept? This is a critical avenue of meaning for discipleship today. We too must make the confession, "You are the Christ," and then learn what it means to make this claim.

Jesus says to Peter, "My Father in heaven has revealed this to you," and when Jesus predicts his fate, Peter's response is, "God forbid." It may be one thing to accept the fate of Jesus; it may be a different thing altogether to accept what Jesus' fate communicates about God.

Peter makes his confession before Jesus points to the realities of what that confession will mean both about Jesus and about discipleship. This signifies several important truths. First, the confession must be confessed. When something is said out loud, that act calls whatever is said into existence and affirms that Jesus as Christ needs to be claimed, according to the Gospel writers. Their intent is that there will be an ongoing confession of generations of believers, an ongoing proclamation of the good news.

Second, being able to confess Jesus as Messiah is a critical thing, but having a sense of what that means is an ongoing process. The character of Peter illustrates this. It is not simply that Peter just doesn't get it, but that one wonders if he is ever meant to get it or, for that matter, if we are. How a confession of Jesus as Christ is lived out is an unfolding, a revealing that is not expected to have its meaning contained in the confession alone. This is what Jesus means, in part, about taking up our cross, about losing our lives for the sake of finding them again.

Finally, confessing Jesus as Christ before acknowledging Jesus as crucified Messiah suggests that our confession is about proclamation of faith, not about comprehension of faith. When we answer for ourselves, "You are the Christ," we claim both victory over death and the promise of the resurrection. When confession is only knowledge, then the cross is only death on a tree and the resurrection is only reward.

His question at Caesarea Philippi is not Jesus' final question to his disciples: they will have their last supper together, the moments at Gethsemane, the last words from the cross. The Caesarea Philippi event occurs at roughly the midpoint of the story, intimating that it is our story now, in the midst of the messiness of our lives. It is here in the middle of the story, when we confess the confession, that its meaning arises and unfolds and moves us from death to life.

 

Toward the Prophetic: A New Direction in the Practice of New Thought

Called “The Religion of Healthy-Mindedness” by William James in his classic work, Varieties of Religious Experience, New Thought is a spiritual and philosophical movement associated with the founding of a number of ideologically-related churches in the late 19th and early 20th century United States. Among the best known of these are Divine Science, Religious Science (or the Science of Mind), and the Unity Society of Practical Christianity (or more commonly, Unity).[1] Although drawing on spiritual principles evident in a variety of settings throughout history, the New Thought movement is generally considered to have its origins in the mental healing practice of Phineas Parkhurst Quimby (1802-1866) and the transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882).[2] New Thought developed out of a post-Revolutionary War ethos of individualism and personal entitlement. The ideals espoused in the Declaration of Independence are evident in the New Thought belief that each person is divinely endowed with the right to happiness and the power of choice, enjoying equal access to the creative potential of spiritual and metaphysical laws.[3]

 

In traditional philosophical use the term metaphysics refers to a study of the fundamental nature of being and reality; in New Thought metaphysics, or metaphysical, specifically indicates that fundamental nature as a spiritual or mental reality that transcends the physical. Spirit is regarded as pure energy that expresses along a continuum with higher and lower levels of vibration. Thus matter is spirit (or mind) in form. The power of mind to create experience is stressed in the New Thought adage, “Change your thinking, change your life.” This is often noted as consistent with Proverbs 23:7, For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he, as well as Romans 12:2, Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind. The term “mind,” particularly when capitalized, is used in New Thought to indicate the Divine Mind or Mind of God.  The concept of Mind goes beyond the intellect to encompass the conscious and subconscious creative power of thought, in both its universal and individualized expressions.  Through practices such as meditation and affirmative prayer (sometimes called “spiritual mind treatment”), transformation of the individualized mind, or “consciousness,” may be accomplished, along with a corresponding transformation of life experience.

 

New Thought teachings emphasize the omnipresence of God as the one life, power, and intelligence that expresses throughout the seen and unseen world.  Human beings are “made in the image and likeness” of this Divine Source – individualizations of It and inseparable from It – inheritors of free will, self-dominion and creative thought. Citing the example of Jesus, New Thought teaches the practical application of spiritual principles for the healing of body and affairs, and the availability of “the kingdom of heaven” in every moment.  All healing is essentially understood to be a healing of the sense of separation (actual separation would be an impossibility) from the unitary wholeness of God.

 

Although the specific spiritual practices and doctrinal statements may vary somewhat from one denomination to another, or among individual practitioners of New Thought (many adherents are unaffiliated with a particular denomination), there are philosophical consistencies that can be noted. The overview presented in this article will focus primarily on these broader concepts that are more generally representative of New Thought and will often rely on the statements of belief from different denominations to illustrate these principles, hence making extensive use of web-based resources. I will offer a somewhat systematic review of New Thought philosophy, considering textual sources and hermeneutics, beliefs about the nature of Divinity, humankind, christology, and universal creation, and how these beliefs inform the way New Thought addresses suffering. I conclude with a discussion of the New Thought approach to individual and social transformation, and particularly the relatively recent development of what I have termed “Prophetic New Thought,” as an engaged spirituality concerned with peace and justice issues.

 

Texts and Hermeneutics

 

The primary scriptural text for most New Thought denominations is the Judeo-Christian Bible.[4] The sacred writings of other spiritual traditions are referenced in varying degrees by the different authors and denominations. For example Ernest Holmes, the founder of Religious Science, while retaining a decidedly Christian emphasis, explicitly acknowledged the wisdom teachings of many of the world’s faiths as contributing to his development of the Science of Mind. Secondary textual sources are comprised of the writings of the fore-parents of New Thought, such as Emerson, Thomas Troward, Emma Curtis Hopkins, Warren Felt Evans, and others who did not establish any congregational body, but whose teachings were instrumental to the articulations that followed.[5] Additional sources include the more doctrinal writings of the founders of the various denominations, and the work of contemporary practitioners of New Thought. 

 

The central hermeneutic of New Thought is “metaphysical” (in the sense previously defined), interpreting scriptures – and often life itself – according to esoteric or allegorical meanings.  Charles Fillmore, a co-founder of Unity, provided detailed instruction on this symbolism that was published in 1931 as The Metaphysical Bible Dictionary, a reference widely used in New Thought. In metaphysical exegesis proper names, features of the landscape, numbers, gender, and other details, each have a deeper significance corresponding to a state of consciousness. The Bible is viewed not only as an historical or canonical document, but as a description of the individual soul’s journey of spiritual development and commentary on what happens when different states of consciousness interact with one another in the collective drama of human existence.[6]

 

God Is All There Is

 

The fundamental teaching of New Thought is the infinite eternal omnipresence of God (Spirit, Divine Mind, or however It is termed) as all there is. The Divine Science Statement of Being is representative: “God is all, both invisible and visible. One Presence, One Mind, One Power is all. This One that is all is Perfect Life, Perfect Love and Perfect Substance.” Divine Science maintains “[t]he transcendence and immanence of God is manifest in all created things, yet above and beyond all created things: God the Create and the Uncreate [sic]; the Visible and the Invisible; the Absolute and the Relative; the Universal and the Individual.”[7]

 

God is not personified in New Thought, but regarded as “an Eternal Principle that appears as Law, Being, Mind, Spirit, the Cause and Source of All.”[8] According to Unity teachings, “the nature of God is absolute Good, the unchangeable, impersonal, eternal Truth standing under all creation with absolute integrity. The elements that make up this absolute Good are what we term ideas (attributes, qualities) of God, such as life, love, substance, power, wisdom… joy, strength, plenty, and every other good thing.”[9]

 

This emphasis on God as absolute Good is common in New Thought, as it is in mainline Christianity.  In mainline doctrine, however, God’s goodness is often contrasted with some independently existent evil, in a dualistic context (whether or not that evil is personified as the devil or Satan).  In the New Thought setting of ultimate oneness, and the conviction that “God is all there is,” evil is regarded not as a fundamental part of the universal order, but as the byproduct of a human consciousness of separation.

 

Expressions of the One

 

New Thought teaches that every person is an individualized expression of, and inseparably one with, the Life of God.  Rather than human beings with a spirit, we are described as spiritual beings in human incarnation.  Our essential nature and identity is not physical, but spiritual and eternal – a microcosm of the Divine macrocosm – with the ability to reveal all the qualities of God. The reason for incarnation is to provide opportunities for the soul’s learning and development.

 

New Thought emphasizes the direct access of every individual to the power and presence of God, without intermediary or intercession. This union does not have to be earned, nor can it ever be lost; it is inherent in spiritual existence. Through the Divine Mind, every individualized mind is joined; all consciousness is one. New Thought teaches that “[t]here is no separation from the cosmic wholeness that many call ‘God,’ other than an experience of belief in such separation. All realms and dimensions of human experience – physical/material, mental, emotional, etc. – are so interwoven that no person or thing in the cosmos can be separated from the whole. The only way to experience such separation is to believe in separation.”[10]   

 

Neither is there any separation or cessation of consciousness with the death of the physical body. Divine Science represents the general consensus of New Thought belief when it affirms that “death is only one of many experiences in the spiritual unfoldment of the soul. At this time, the soul simply moves into another level of expression. Life never ceases for all is life eternally expressing through a multitude of forms. What is true at one point in life is true at all points in life; therefore, man, the spiritual being, can not and does not die.”[11]

 

Jesus the Wayshower, Christ the Consciousness

 

In most New Thought denominations a distinction is made between the historical person, Jesus of Nazareth, and the Christ consciousness he is believed to embody. Jesus is regarded as the “divine example,” a master teacher who exemplified what all of humanity is called to demonstrate as sons and daughters, expressions or emanations, of God. The Christ is understood as the consciousness of enlightenment, a universal principle of Spirit rather than an exclusive person.  Ernest Holmes notes that

 

Religious Science does not deny the divinity of Jesus; but it does affirm the divinity of all people. It does not deny that Jesus was the son of God; but affirms that all beings are children of God. It does not deny that the Kingdom of God was revealed through Jesus; but affirms that the Kingdom of God is also revealed through you and me.[12]

 

In the hermeneutic of New Thought, Jesus’ admonition to pray “in my name” may be interpreted as “in my nature” – with the authority and integrity of the Christ consciousness. Holmes writes, “If our thought is as unsullied as the Mind of God, if we are recognizing our Oneness with God, we cannot pray for other than the good of all [humanity].… The secret of spiritual power lies in a consciousness of one’s union with the Whole….”[13] This is the foundation for the healing practice that has been part of New Thought since the “mental cures” of Quimby. Jesus is believed to have healed and performed miracles through his Christ nature – his conscious union with God. Philippians 2:5, Let this mind be in you that was also in Christ Jesus, is taken as an affirmation of the universal availability of the Christ Mind/Principle and the directive to seek its embodiment. Jesus is regarded as the Divine Wayshower who, having fully realized his own divine nature, can guide each person to a realization of the Christ – the presence of God – within her or himself.

 

Universal Creation: The Body of God

 

New Thought is generally panentheistic, regarding God as present within, but infinitely exceeding, the manifest universe. Just as the physical universe can be described by observed physical laws, the spiritual universe is believed to be organized by metaphysical laws that can be activated through the use of spiritual practices to consciously create life experience.[14] The Declaration of Principles of the International New Thought Alliance (INTA), an association of New Thought groups and denominations, states: “We affirm that the universe is the body of God, spiritual in essence, governed by God through laws which are spiritual in reality even when material in appearance.”[15]

 

The Universal Foundation for Better Living, founded in 1974 by the Rev. Johnnie Colemon (who came out of the Unity church), believes that “Everything that exists, or ever will exist is pressed out of the body of God (God-Substance) in different forms of manifestation. Since the nature of God is absolute good, and everything is God-Substance, there can be no evil in reality.”[16] Even that which appears to be material is spiritual in its essence, the physicalized expression of Mind. According to its founders, Divine Science “has always taught that so-called matter is pure divine energy manifesting as form; it repeatedly points out that Substance is Spirit.”[17]

 

Suffering

 

Generally speaking, New Thought takes an affirmative and empowering approach to human suffering. Several denominations offer specific practices that facilitate a deeper understanding of the “mental cause” of adverse conditions and shift the underlying pattern of thoughts and beliefs, thereby transcending or transforming the corresponding experience. As we have seen, the philosophy of mental causation teaches that experience is determined by consciousness. Given any set of objective conditions or circumstances, the subjective experience of an individual (and the meaning assigned to any condition) will depend on the climate of thoughts, feelings, and beliefs s/he maintains. The following excerpt provides illustration:

 

It is done unto me as I believe…. All healing results from the healing of belief in separation from cosmic wholeness. All experience of disconnection and ‘brokenness,’ be it in my own body, the body of my affairs or any other body, is a consequence of believing that I am separated from the cosmic whole that many call ‘God.’… All healing is a healing of the perception that wholeness does not prevail. … Accordingly, New Thought supports the cleansing of perceptions, the neutralization of all perception of disconnectedness, brokenness and separation, which in turn results in the healing of conditions…. Only the healing of one's perception produces comprehensive and permanent results.[18]

 

New Thought affirms that a person is not defined or diminished by the conditions that he or she may experience; no outer circumstance can eclipse the truth of spiritual wholeness. However, the New Thought emphasis on consciousness as the determinant of lived conditions can lead to a simplistic “blame the victim” type attitude regarding lack, limitation, and even social injustice. A person experiencing illness or adversity may be perceived as somehow less evolved or enlightened, or less God-realized, and their consciousness as being in need of correction. Divine Science represents many of the New Thought denominations in declaring, “Sickness is the result of a belief in two powers; a lack of the full realization that we are, in Truth, spiritual beings… when an individual is expressing on a high level of consciousness and knows completely that he is Spirit, he cannot be ill, for he is in complete harmony with the one creative power, God.”[19] Although the motive may be to relieve suffering, it’s a slippery theological slope that suggests the equation of material success or well-being with spiritual evolution.[20] Furthermore, with this emphasis, the formative or soul-deepening value of suffering is too often disregarded in the rush to find relief.

 

Individual and Social Transformation

 

Historically, New Thought has focused almost exclusively on individual transformation as the way to achieve transformation in the world. Believing that everything begins in mind, New Thought teaches that events in the “outer” world reflect inner mentation. Conditions on the global or social level, then, cannot be definitively addressed without a shift in the underlying mental causation. The macrocosm of human collective consciousness is regarded as inseparable from the microcosm of individual thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs. In this context affirmative prayer, meditation, and so forth, may be viewed as the most effective actions to bring about positive social change. Each individual is seen as a co-creator of the collective consciousness, and is therefore personally accountable for contributing to the world condition. An article by the president of Religious Science International describes the denomination’s approach to the contemporary issue, “Dealing Spiritually with Terrorism.” She writes:

 

The Science of Mind teaches that the only way we can change conditions, transcend our experiences, or impact others in any meaningful way is to use the Power of Mind constructively. That's what it means to take responsibility when bad things happen. Taking responsibility does not mean to blame ourselves for the things that happen, but to take charge of our mental reaction when they do. … Through [prayer] treatment we can align our consciousness with the Divine Consciousness so that our next action is motivated by love and compassion rather than hatred and fear. … Peace begins only where it can – within each and every one of us. Right here and right now.[21]

 

New Thought’s cultural and historic roots in the 19th century New England ethos of personal independence and spiritual entitlement support an individualistic response to communal problems. The Universal Foundation for Better Living, for example, suggests that, “rather than devoting our primary efforts to providing for the needy of the world, the time has come to make available to all people everywhere a teaching that will enable them to provide for themselves by learning to release the divine potential within them.”[22] Another New Thought organization likewise affirms, “We can establish Global Transformation by intentionally choosing to improve our personal lives. Each time you choose to entertain healthy thinking you impact life on two levels, individually and collectively.…The world will automatically change as a result.”[23]

 

As with the approach to personal suffering, the intention is to engage the creative power of mind, and through a shift in consciousness to generate a corresponding transformation of external conditions. In order to maintain a positive mental state and avoid the perpetuation of “negative” circumstances, adherents of New Thought may be counseled to turn their “attention from the outer visible effects of this world to the inner world of First Cause…. The [outer] world is seen as the realm of constant changes in appearance, but the inner world is perceived as the Source of All Being.” According to the teachings of Divine Science “[t]he power of right thinking releases into expression in each individual life its divine inheritance of health, abundance, peace, and power.”[24]

 

Prophetic New Thought

 

Recent years have seen a development within the New Thought movement that could be referred to as “Prophetic New Thought.”[25] This metaphysical approach to social transformation comprises a practical application of spiritual principles to directly address the violence, injustice, and suffering that exist in the world. An example may be seen in the work of the Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith, founder of the Agape International Spiritual Center in Culver City (Los Angeles area), California.[26]  Although ordained as a Religious Science minister, Beckwith practices an ecumenical spirituality that he calls “New Thought – Ancient Wisdom,” acknowledging the consistency of wisdom teachings found throughout the ages in a diversity of faiths and cultures.  Rooted in this theological context, his sermons and his activism demonstrate a commitment not only to peace and justice, but to a wholistic paradigmatic shift affecting every dimension of the inner and outer landscape. (See illustration.)

 

In a 2006 interview, Beckwith addressed the urgency of contemporary issues, inviting readers to move beyond two of the common tendencies within New Thought that hinder social engagement – the avoidance of social concerns in order to withdraw attention from “negativity,” and the use of spiritual practices to manifest personal desires. He notes,

 

How sad that the sophistication of weapons is greater than the world’s collective systems for producing and sustaining the sacredness of life on the planet… How tragic that the planet’s resources are raped and plundered, and war is still a commonly accepted solution to human conflicts. Acknowledging these facts is not negativity. We cannot bury our head in the proverbial sand about where the collective evolution of consciousness has brought us thus far. Never before has the spiritual technology of prayer, meditation, taking an active stand for peace, compassion, and intelligent dialogue been more vital. Now is not the time to be egotistically concerned with manifesting petty desires – it is a time to be intelligently and actively involved in the welfare of all beings.[27]

 

According to Beckwith, “When humanity’s view transforms egocentric boundaries of ‘me and mine’ into a worldcentric view of ‘ours’ we have a true chance not only to create integrative policies of peace but to live them. Events such as the world is currently experiencing [in the aftermath of 9-11] offer the prospect of moving into a creative response, one that may have never before been considered.”[28]

 

Rev. Beckwith is a co-founder of the Association for Global New Thought (AGNT), an umbrella organization that oversees a growing roster of international spiritual activist projects. Among these are: A Season for Nonviolence;[29] the Synthesis Dialogues with His Holiness the Dalai Lama and progressive multi-faith leaders from around the world; an annual Awakened World conference bringing together scientists, futurists, and spiritual activists; participation in the 1998 UNESCO Seminar on Religion and Peace, and the 1999 and 2004 Parliament of the World’s Religions.

 

The Association for Global New Thought maintains a “vision of planetary transformation based on the conviction that there are universal spiritual truths which represent the emerging spiritual paradigm for the new millennium.”[30] Conforming to the New Thought belief that “consciousness is elementally creative, reciprocates thoughts, and thereby shapes all manifestation,” AGNT affirms “the community of all life is sacred; our practices of meditation and prayer enhance a worldview promoting reverence for, and service to humanity and planet earth. New Thought is committed to Global healing through personal transformation, community-building, interfaith, intercultural, and interdisciplinary understanding, and compassionate activism.”[31] So here we find the traditional New Thought emphasis on individual transformation extended in its application to address the world situation.

 

Another example of prophetic New Thought is found in the ministry of the Rev. Deborah L. Johnson, based in Soquel, California. Acknowledging Beckwith as her mentor, Johnson has combined New Thought spirituality with her lifelong commitment to social justice activism. A respected diversity trainer and consultant in conflict resolution, Johnson possesses a keen understanding of the mechanisms of societal oppression (based on race, gender, sexual orientation, economics, etc.) and seeks to approach these from the context of spiritual oneness. Her congregation, Inner Light Ministries, emphasizes oneness as a core principle and strives to embody this ideal in every aspect of operations and community life.[32] (It is important to clarify that, for Johnson, oneness does not connote sameness or uniformity, but the integration of diverse expressions as parts of an interdependent whole. Every person is viewed as a spiritual being, endowed with equal value and equal worth.)

 

Unlike many New Thought pastors, Rev. Johnson frequently addresses social issues from the pulpit. In a sermon given on 18 December 2005, she spoke about the U.S.-led war in Iraq:

 

When we get to the point where we say we are one planet, where we are one people, the idea of sacrificing one person’s life for another person’s life is not acceptable. Calling human beings “collateral” is not acceptable. … We’ve got to…have the courage to move beyond divisiveness…. If there is only one people, that needs to show up everywhere. We need to see that in our economics. We need to see that in our childcare. We need to see that in education. We need to see that in health reform. We need to see that in how we treat the elders… And we have to stand on that…that it is unacceptable to value some people more than other people. … It is unacceptable to run over a sovereign nation because our country’s consumerism is so great that we want to take their resources. It is unacceptable. There’s just one people here. There’s just one.[33]

 

Johnson affirms the New Thought belief that the microcosmic and macrocosmic, the individual and the collective, are mirrors of one another and cannot be separated. She notes, “each of us is integral to every circumstance as both part of the reason it exists and how it will heal. Nothing happens at a global level that is not first happening at the individual level, and nothing can heal globally without healing on the individual level.”[34] This implies both accountability for the world condition and agency for its transformation.

 

As African Americans coming of age in Los Angeles during the social unrest of the 1960’s, both Johnson and Beckwith were heavily influenced by the Civil Rights Movement and Martin Luther King Jr.’s vision of the Beloved Community. During his childhood, Beckwith attended Holman United Methodist Church, known for it’s tradition of social involvement and commitment to peace and justice issues. He attended Morehouse College in the early 1970’s where he encountered the teachings of Dr. Howard Thurman, combining a deep mystic spirituality with the necessity of social engagement. Johnson grew up in the Church of God in Christ, where spirituality and programs of social uplift went hand-in-hand. Her grandmother was a member of Second Baptist Church in Los Angels under the pastorship of the Rev. Thomas Kilgore, a longtime activist and friend of Dr. King and his family. As an “out” lesbian Johnson’s own activism has included national leadership roles in the movement for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights.

 

Beckwith and Johnson represent a new generation of African American New Thought ministers.[35] Their grounding in the social conscience of the Black Church and their participation in liberation movements of the sixties and seventies informed their interpretation and practice of New Thought. In their ministries, New Thought teachings regarding individual healing and transformation are not discarded, but rather extended to include social healing and transformation of the collective consciousness. Although somewhat controversial within the larger New Thought movement, this direction is gaining both prominence and momentum.

 

Largely influenced by Beckwith and the work of AGNT, a commitment to social engagement has begun to find its way into several New Thought denominations. Reverend Beckwith’s former association with the United Church of Religious Science (UCRS) led to their 2001 adoption of the “Global Heart Vision,” calling for “a world free of homelessness, violence, war, hunger, separation and disenfranchisement.”[36] More recently, in 2005, UCRS formed a Social Issues Committee to “identify local and global issues that are relevant to a world that works for everyone, to apply spiritual principles and move forward into appropriate action.” Their stated intentions are:

 

To respect and preserve the dignity of every being, to universally ensure human rights, to promote freedom of expression, and freedom in all its forms.

 

To be conscious stewards of the environment and preserve the sanctity of creation.

 

To develop and engage in activities that cooperate with the laws of nature allowing the earth to return to its natural state of being.

 

To dedicate ourselves to support all efforts that uphold and spread peace through nonviolence and cooperation.

 

To align, integrate and co-create with others of like mind.[37]

 

In early 2007 the committee unveiled a Spiritual Advocacy Handbook covering such topics as working together for change, visiting an elected official, attending a public forum, and influencing the media. They have also released “greening” guidelines for improving the environmental responsibility of congregations. Future plans call for an interactive website providing information, resources, and networking for those seeking to address social issues from the context of New Thought spirituality.

 

The Association of Unity Churches followed suit with the creation of a Spiritual Social Action Ministry Team in 2006. The initiative came out of a strategic directive adopted by the Association, which calls for “positively impacting the human condition,” and evidences a growing support for spiritual social action among the broader membership of Unity. Goals for the ministry include:

 

1. To work collaboratively with organizations around the world who are engaged in effective social action that is in alignment with Unity principles.

 

2. To encourage the Association [of Unity Churches] to speak the Truth that promotes justice and peaceful resolution, and be a strong voice in the world for positive change.

 

3. To make an annual prestigious award for, and to shine a light on, spiritual social action and service that is being done by Unity ministries.

 

4. To provide resources, information, education and training for individuals and ministries that want to become involved in spiritual social action.

 

5. To support regions, ministers and ministries in engaging in ongoing diversity-consciousness education so that we welcome and honor all people.

 

6. To establish a movement wide system for responding to human need through conscious compassionate service and action.

 

7. To take actions that promote, inspire, support and create sustainable worldwide peace.

 

8. To encourage and empower the work of social and environmental justice by the Association and Unity ministries.[38]

 

The work of both UCRS and Unity is in its early stages; however, just the fact that such commissions exist within these major denominations is a noteworthy shift from their historic position. It is too soon to know if increasing support for social action within the denominations will have a reflexive effect on New Thought doctrine, or on the content of what is preached from the pulpits of New Thought congregations, moving them further toward the prophetic. It will also be interesting to see if increased participation of New Thought adherents in movements for social change alters the discourse and the strategies of those movements. To some degree this is already happening due to the popularization of New Thought teachings through self-help books, movies, and other commercial outlets.[39] As New Thought principles become part of the vocabulary of the general population this cross-pollination will likely increase. Whether the influence is superficial and short-lived or more significant and enduring remains to be seen.

 

Conclusion

 

The fundamental tenets of New Thought philosophy include mental causation, the omneity of God, and the oneness of all life. Early practitioners of New Thought focused on the use of mental and spiritual practices for the healing of body and affairs, and the betterment of personal conditions. In this belief system, everything is made up of energy vibrating at different frequencies. The conditions of the physical dimension are regarded as the transient effects of consciousness, without enduring substance or ultimate reality. Through a shift in consciousness, conditions can be altered – for the individual, and thus for the collective.

 

From this traditional New Thought perspective, the most effective way to work for social change is through personal inner transformation. For instance, poverty is addressed through dissolving the blocks to prosperity within the consciousness of each individual, without analysis of the social structures that perpetuate economic inequity. In the face of war (or any conflict), adherents might seek peace among the warring factions within the borders of their own heart and mind. To end oppression they may strive for a deeper understanding of the “oppressor” and the “oppressed” within, to re-establish a consciousness of wholeness. Generally, attention is placed on the desired outcome rather than the adverse condition. Some New Thought adherents choose to avoid news media in order to maintain this positive focus.

 

Certainly, there is great value in personal transformation. Diligence in inner peace-making, for example, can help develop the capacity to stand in integrity and with compassion in the face of troubling world events. However, the primary focus on causation in the inner realm risks obscuring the gravity of trespasses in the “outer” world, the systematic and institutional nature of oppression, and the culpability of the perpetrating agents. Furthermore, the practice of withdrawing one’s witness of suffering and injustice as a way to avoid “negativity” can create a false sense of complacency, short-circuiting the motivation for social action.

 

Although maintaining an emphasis on individual transformation as the key, recent years have witnessed a movement beyond this exclusive focus to advocate the need for transformation on all levels – individual, interpersonal, institutional, and political – and the explicit valuation of social engagement as part of committed spiritual practice. This emerging “Prophetic New Thought” is evidenced in a growing number of congregations and denominations.

 

The dominant society is built on a paradigm of dualism and polarity – us and them, good-guys and bad-guys, right and wrong, friend and foe, haves and have-nots. This polarization risks dehumanizing the “other” and can thereby disinhibit and even normalize acts of violence, discrimination, and degradation. Many movements for social change, while seeking to halt violence or injustice, too often simply recast who is right and who is wrong, who is “us” and who is “them,” without challenging the paradigmatic assumption of duality. Applying the New Thought principle of universal oneness to conditions of social concern can have profound implications both for how we interact with other members of the human family and how we care for the earth. If, as this worldview asserts, the essence of all life is singular – one with God and one with every element of creation – then there is no “other,” no “them,” only an infinitely inclusive “us.” Acts of harm (whether against people or the natural world) would then constitute a trespass against the whole, against self, and ultimately, against God.

 

In New Thought, as in the mystic traditions of many faiths, oneness is regarded as literal and absolute, and therefore must include not only the victims of violence and domination, but also the perpetrators. Thus the oppressed and the oppressor are seen as one at the deepest level of God-life, and it is that very recognition that creates the possibility of redemptive transformation and reconciliation. In the prophetic application of New Thought principles, a just and compassionate world becomes possible not by simply shifting who holds power in society, but in shifting the paradigmatic framework that guides beliefs, policy, and action.

 

When the transformation of individual consciousness that is the cornerstone of New Thought is translated into a corresponding commitment to work for the common welfare of all beings, it has the potential to provide fresh resources and perspectives for the social and political struggles central to the prophetic tradition.

 


 

 

NOTES

 

[1] Consistent teachings can be seen internationally in the Self Realization Fellowship of Paramahansa Yogananda, established in 1920; Seicho-No-Ie founded in Japan in 1930 by Dr. Masaharu Taniguchi; and the contemporary Spiritual Mind Science of Bro. Ishmael Tetteh of Ghana. It should be noted that although Christian Science does not consider itself part of the New Thought movement, it comes out of the same theological and historical roots. New Thought should not be confused with “New Age” which is an umbrella term referring to a somewhat amorphous spiritualist philosophy that overlaps with many New Thought beliefs, but also includes the occult and a variety of alternative healing modalities that are not consistent with New Thought doctrine.

 

[2] Despite its name, New Thought is not new. Some of its antecedent influences include the Hindu Vedas and Bhagavad Gita, Platonic and Neoplatonic thought, Swedenborgianism, and German idealism. It is a limitation of New Thought that, like most traditions that trace their evolutionary roots in terms of the ancient Greek philosophers, it does not acknowledge the African (Kemetic) contributions to the Greek wisdom teachings.

 

[3] For a summary of New Thought history see: Charles S. Braden, Spirits in Rebellion: The Rise and Development of New Thought (Dallas: Southern Methodist University Press, 1963); Sherry Evans, The Roads to Truth: In Search of New Thought’s Roots (West Jordan, UT: Northern Lights Publications, 2005); the work of C. Alan Anderson and Deborah G. Whitehouse, for example, New Thought: A Practical American Spirituality (New York: Crossroad Publishing, Co., 1995), as well as their extensive web-based archive resource <www.websyte.com/alan>

 

[4] Religious historian James Noel points out the problematics inherent in the contradictory worldviews upon which New Thought is based: philosophical non-dualism on the one hand, and the dualism of the Judeo-Christian biblical tradition on the other. Personal communication, 18 October 2008.

 

[5] For example see: Emma Curtis Hopkins, Scientific Christian Mental Practice (Marina del Rey, CA: DeVorss & Co., n.d.); Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: Harper & Row, 1926/1951); Warren Felt Evans, The Mental Cure (Boston: H. H. & T. W. Carter, 1869); and Thomas Troward, The Edinburgh & Doré Lectures on Mental Science (Marina del Rey, CA: DeVorss, 1909/1989).

 

[6] More recent authors, among them Joel Goldsmith, Jack Addington, and Ervin Seale, have published further discussions of the metaphysical interpretation of Biblical texts. See for example: Goldsmith, Spiritual Interpretation of Scripture (Marina del Rey: DeVorss & Co., 1947); Addington, The Hidden Mystery of the Bible (Marina del Rey, CA: DeVorss Publications, 1969); Seale, Learn to Live the Meaning of the Parables (Marina del Rey, CA: DeVorss Publications, 1955).

 

[7] “Statement of Being,” Divine Science website, <www.divinescience.org>, accessed 30 March 2006.

 

[8] Thomas Charles Sannar, “Summary of the Spiritual Ideas from Sources of Science of Mind,” website of Emerson Institute – the educational arm of the Affiliated New Thought Network (ANTN) at <www.emersononlinestudies.org/Sources.htm>, accessed 30 March 2006.

 

[9] Foundations of Unity (Unity Village, MO: Unity, n.d.) 38, as cited in C. Alan Anderson, “Contrasting Strains of Metaphysical Idealism Contributing to New Thought,” monograph for Society for the Study of Metaphysical Religion, 1991. Accessed 30 March 2006, <http://websyte.com/alan/contrast.htm>. Italics and parens in the original.

 

[10] Noel F. McInnis, “Principles of Connectedness in Consciousness,” New Thought Network website, <www.newthought.net/principles.htm>, accessed 30 March 2006 (web site now discontinued).

 

[11] From “Interpretations of the Christian Doctrine,” Divine Science website, <www.divinescience.org/doctrine.html>, accessed 23 August 2007.

 

[12] From “Frequently Asked Questions: Do You Believe in Jesus Christ?” on United Church of Religious Science website, <www.religiousscience.org/ucrs_site/philosophy/faq.html>, accessed 30 March 2006.

 

[13] Ernest Holmes, The Science of Mind (New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher / Putnam, 1938/1997), 151.

 

[14] These practices commonly include meditation, prayer treatment, statements of affirmation and denial, and other similar methods.

 

[15] Quoted in Anderson and Woodhouse, New Thought, 1995, 5.

 

[16] “What We Teach: The Omnipresence of God,” Christ Universal Temple (church of the Rev. Johnnie Colemon), <www.cutemplelife.org/abtteach.html>, accessed 23 August 2007.

 

[17] Divine Science: Its Principle and Practice. Compiled from Truth and Health by Fannie B. James and Divine Science and Healing by Malinda E. Cramer (Denver: Divine Science Church and College, 1957), 39-40, as cited in Anderson, “Contrasting Strains of Metaphysical Idealism,” op cit.

 

[18] McInnis, <www.newthought.net/principles.htm>, accessed 30 March 2006.

 

[19] “Interpretations of the Christian Doctrine,” Divine Science website, <www.divinescience.org/ doctrine.html>, accessed 27 August 2007.

 

[20] The prosperity gospel movement, a discussion of which is beyond the scope of this paper, shares common ground with certain elements of New Thought in this regard. See, for example, Darnise C. Martin, Beyond Christianity: African Americans in a New Thought Church (New York: NYU Press, 2005), especially 53-59.

 

[21] Candace Becket, “Dealing Spiritually with Terrorism.” Religious Science International web site <www.rsintl.org/international/peace.asp>  accessed 27 April 2008.

 

[22] “What We Believe,” Universal Foundation for Better Living website, <www.ufbl.org/ufbl_aboutus.html>, accessed 25 February 2008.

 

[23] “Global Transformation through Individual Consciousness,” New Thought Chicago website, <www.newthoughtchicago.com/GlobalTransformation.htm>, accessed 27 April 2008.

 

[24] “What is Divine Science?” from Divine Science website, <www.divinescience.org/what.html>, accessed 23 August 2007.

 

[25] To my knowledge this represents an original coinage, and not a term that is otherwise in use. See, Rankow, “Nearer than Breathing: Toward a Theology of Unification” (Union Institute and University, 2004).

 

[26] The official web site of the Agape International Spiritual Center is <www.agapelive.com>. Since its inception in 1986, Agape has grown to include over 9,000 local members and hundreds of thousands of “friends” worldwide. Their CommonUnity social ministries include a peace ministry, hand-to-hand feeding project, prison ministry, and environmental issues ministry. International concerns are addressed through their GlobalWorks ministry. Accessed 25 February 2008.

 

[27] Sandra Sarr, “A Modern Mystic: Dr. Michael Beckwith Speaks with Science of Mind.” Science of Mind 79, no.1 (January 2006): 84.

 

[28] Michael B. Beckwith, A Manifesto of Peace: Light on the Path of an Emissary of Peace (Los Angeles: Agape Publishing, 2002), 31. This book particularly addresses the events of 11 September 2001 and the subsequent U.S. declaration of a “war on terror.”

 

[29] A Season for Nonviolence was co-founded in 1998 by Beckwith and Arun Gandhi (the grandson of the Mahatma), and others, in honor of the 50th and 30th memorial anniversaries of Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., respectively. It is a grassroots campaign of education, action, and community building observed each year between 30 January and 4 April in a growing number of cities worldwide.

 

[30] “Universal Spirituality & the Association for Global New Thought,” AGNT website, <www.agnt.org/philosophy~1.htm>, accessed 30 March 2006.

 

[31] Association for Global New Thought, Awakened World Conference, La Qunita, CA, 3-7 October 2005, conference program book, 38.

 

[32] Inner Light Ministries was founded by Johnson in 1997.  Although not a membership organization, their local community participation approximates 1500 people. The official website is <www.innerlightministries.com>, accessed 25 February 2008.

 

[33] Deborah L. Johnson, “One Planet, One People.” Sermon given 18 December 2005 at Inner Light Ministries, Soquel, CA.

 

[34] Deborah L. Johnson, Your Deepest Intent (Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2007), xiii.

 

[35] African American pioneers in New Thought, such as the Rev. Johnnie Colemon, tended to approach social issues by advocating the transformation of individual consciousness through the practice of New Thought principles as the best way to improve individual conditions, and this would ultimately lead to a better life for all. This is illustrated by quotes previously referenced in this article. Some of the history of African Americans in New Thought is included in Darnise Martin’s Beyond Christianity (2005) but more research and documentation is needed in this area.

 

[36] “The Global Heart Vision,” United Church of Religious Science website, <www.religiousscience.org/ucrs_site/globalHart_vision/heart.html>, accessed 17 August 2007.

 

[37] “Social Issues Committee,” United Church of Religious Science website, <www.religiousscience.org/socialissues/about_us.html>, accessed 17 August 2007.

 

[38] “Spiritual Social Action Ministry Team,” Association of Unity Churches website, <www.unity.org/committees/socialact.html>, accessed 17 August 2007.

 

[39] An example of this phenomenon is the 2006 release of The Secret, a popular DVD and book touting the power of mind (creative thought) to attain one’s desires through the Law of Attraction. The emphasis is on personal ends such as wealth, success, physical healing, romantic relationships and the like, however some have subsequently encouraged the application of the same practices (such as affirmations and creative visualization) for the purpose of social transformation and the attainment of world peace. Michael Beckwith’s appearance in the film, and his ensuing television interviews on Oprah (ABC), Larry King Live (CNN), and the CBS Evening News, catapulted him to national celebrity. Although he, too, preaches the benefits of these practices for individual healing and fulfillment, he encourages people not stop there, but take the next step of participating in the larger purpose of global transformation.

 

Race Still Matters: An Interview with Timothy Tyson

In 1970, when Timothy Tyson was ten years old, a black man named Henry "Dickie" Marrow was murdered in Oxford, North Carolina, allegedly for making a sexual comment to a white woman. Despite the testimony of eyewitnesses, the killers, Robert and Larry Teel -- known to be Klansmen -- were acquitted by an all-white jury. Tyson’s father, Vernon, a United Methodist minister; was one of two white people who attended Marrow’s funeral and joined the funeral march to the cemetery. After pursuing degrees in African-American studies, Timothy Tyson wrote a book about events in Oxford. Blood Done Sign My Name (Three Rivers Press) combines history, moral passion and storytelling. Tyson teaches African-American studies at the University of Wisconsin. We spoke with him about his book and the civil rights era.

Many Americans seem to have the impression that the civil rights era occurred a long time ago and that the issues have long since been resolved.

Moral fatigue also plagued early 20th-century Christians, who watched largely without comment as two or three African Americans were tortured to death in public every week, and who cheered as black citizens lost the right to vote. There has never been a time when white Americans were not ready to declare the race problem solved. The largest elements of the church today have made an unspoken deal with the larger culture, sharing its preoccupations, prejudices and politics in exchange for power and respectability.

Legal segregation is dead, yet America is more segregated in some respects now than when I was a boy. The gap between rich and poor is many times wider than it was back then. The country’s inner cities are much harder places to live in than they were 30 years ago. More than 40 percent of African-American children today grow up in poverty. When a young black man and a young white man go before a court, charged with the same first-time offense, carrying the same clean record, the young black man is eight times more likely to see a prison cell if they are both charged with a drug offense, the young black man is 49 times more likely to see a prison cell. We have given up on rehabilitation, and now the people we’re letting out of prison are more dangerous than the people we are putting in.

Things are better in other ways, especially for middle-class African Americans. Doors are open for blacks whose backgrounds permit them to accommodate themselves to traditionally white places like Yale and Princeton. But generally those are not the people whom Martin Luther King Jr. addressed when he was in Memphis, just before he was shot, trying to help the garbage workers win a living wage.

Ought we to teach this history differently?

We ought to teach an honest history, and avoid the celebratory and triumphal impulses of the kind that recently led the Japanese government to censor the history of Japan’s bloody imperial conquests during World War II. That does not mean underselling our achievements or wallowing in self-flagellation. We turn to our nation’s history, even its painful racial past, not to wring our hands but to redeem a democratic promise. At our best, we have sought to feed the hungry and free the oppressed. At our worst, we have practiced genocide and slavery. "The struggle of humanity against power," Milan Kundera tells us, "is the struggle of memory against forgetting."

Many in the mainline churches remember the civil rights movement as a kind of golden age, a time when churches were on the side of the angels. Is that accurate?

The church should never forget that mainline churches failed the African-American freedom struggle and mostly opposed it. The mainstream white churches of the South would not abide ministers who supported the movement. And though we think of the movement as based in the black church, most black churches were not part of the movement. Wyatt T. Walker, Dr. King’s field general in Birmingham, estimated that in the spring of 1963, the movement had the support of 15 percent of the African-American ministers in Birmingham. The notion that the church stood up strong during the civil rights era reveals a dangerous moral amnesia.

You suggest in your book that the main difference between Robert and Larry Teel, who murdered Henry Marrow, and the Tysons may have been that the Tyson family was exposed to the gospel, which smoothed some of the rough edges on a hardscrabble eastern North Carolina fanning life. One wants this to be true.

I’m reminded of the story of Huck Finn, who heard about God from the kindly Widow Douglas and also from the stern and judgmental Miss Watson. Huck figured that you’d fare pretty well with the widow’s God, but that if Miss Watson’s got hold of you, there’d be no hope.

There was a lot of Christianity in eastern North Carolina, but much of it was not very expansive. Jack Tyson’s God was big and big-hearted. The Tysons were as flawed as the Teels, as flawed as anybody else, but our sins don’t tend to be the stingy, hard-handed sins or the snobby sins of exclusion. Failures of humility, excesses of passion, riotous excesses of appetite and raging expressions of temper -- those are the Tyson sins. But if love will fix it, we do all right.

The civil rights movement is usually remembered as a case in which nonviolence worked. You seem to want to counter that view, and you draw on Reinhold Niebuhr’s theology in noting that the power structure in Oxford responded to racism only when power was brought to bear on it and parts of town were torched.

The distinction between Niebuhr’s theology and the civil rights movement is somewhat artificial. The difference between burning an unoccupied warehouse and refusing to surrender a seat at a segregated lunch counter is significant, but both actions are designed to exert economic pressure. Nonviolent direct action at its most effective was surely Niebuhrian in that it operated as political coercion, not moral appeal. King called nonviolence "merely a Niebuhrian stratagem of power.

The armies of nonviolence descended on Birmingham in 1963 determined to create intolerable tension in the community, to inflict an unbearable economic price, to shame the U.S. in the eyes of the world and undermine its claim to be a beacon of democracy, and to force the national government to intervene. Popular memory casts nonviolence as an appeal to the better angels of our nature, but this is sugar-coated nonsense.

Niebuhr, Paul Tillich and life taught Dr. King that power without love may be bankrupt, but that love without power is saccharine and vacant; that to have justice we must harness power in the service of love, and always remember, as we pursue justice, that we are no angels ourselves.

How has Blood Done Sign My Name been received in Oxford?

Before the book was published, my father, the romantic white liberal, imagined that it would create a wonderfully redemptive and healing moment for Oxford: "They may invite Tim to speak at city hall and Webb High School. We may have Easter sunrise service at Henry Marrow’s grave, and the whole community come together." When he heard my father say that, Eddie McCoy, a radical black activist, commented, "There’s goes Reverend Tyson again, dreaming of a white Christmas!"

I am not making any plans for Easter morning, but the rest of it has happened. The book has sold hundreds and hundreds of copies in Granville County, and the library has loads of copies, all of them backlogged. I have been invited to speak at the high school twice and once at city hall. Hundreds of people from Oxford have come to hear me and engage in discussions and hundreds more have written me letters and e-mails, all but one of them favorable. About 200 people signed up to participate in interracial reading or prayer groups in Oxford. I had not even dared to hope for such things.

The people of Granville County have decided, by and large, to embrace their history and their future, turning to each other instead of on each other. I am not trying to say that the millennium has come and made Oxford a racial utopia. White people still own everything. New racial resentments have arisen from the large influx of Latino folks who have come to take "black" jobs and make a better life for their families. Public institutions have suffered from the stingy and resentful response of white people to the black presence in those institutions, and so our sense of the commonwealth has been badly damaged. But the kind of violence that Oxford experienced in 1970 is far less distinctive in America than the community’s remarkable response today. Oxford deserves a lot of credit -- and it needs to keep working at it too.

What main points of the story do you try to get across when speaking to ministers and seminarians?

I try to wean them from the habit of trying to put a redemptive spin on history. We need redemption, to be sure, but that’s God’s job. We don’t do ourselves any favors by producing a false historical narrative. There is a temptation among Christians to decide, in advance of actually examining the evidence on the ground, that history was redemptive and faith-driven and somehow theologically focused. I want redemption and reconciliation too, and I will take it where I can find it. But I think I am a pretty good nonsense detector, having grown up among people whom I admire for their audacious and unjustified hope.

Transformed

The Mystery of the Transfiguration. By Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap. Servant, 144 pp.

Transfiguration. By Dorothy Lee. Continuum, 168 pp.

Metamorphosis: The Transfiguration in Byzantine Theology and Iconography. By Andreas Andreopoulos.

St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 286 pp.

The Uncreated Light: An Iconographical Study of the Transfiguration in the Eastern Church. By Solrunn Nes.

Eerdmans, 207 pp.

Rooted in Detachment: Living the Transfiguration. By Kenneth Stevenson. Cistercian Publications, 144 pp.

Transfiguration: A Meditation on Transforming Ourselves and Our World. By John Dear.

Doubleday, 256 pp.

 

The 2008 presidential race, particularly on the Democratic side, has been framed as an argument about change. Senator Barack Obama, whose campaign would not have been possible without the social transformations of the last half-century, contends that he is the candidate most capable of bringing about a "working majority for change." His Republican opponent, Senator John McCain, counters that Obama envisions the wrong kind of change for the country. The language of change is not limited, of course, to political rhetoric. Everything in American culture, from technology to fashion to popular art, reflects our hunger for something new or different.

The Christian faith entails a belief in change, but it is change grounded in the redemptive life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Whatever changes we may hope for in persons, church or society acquire a transcendent meaning only when they participate in the dynamic reality that has broken into the world in Christ. It is instructive that the most dramatic instance of change in the New Testament is a change in the physical figure of Jesus himself.

The three synoptic Gospels each tell, with some variations, the story of how Jesus withdrew to a remote mountain in the middle of his journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. While he prayed and the disciples Peter, James and John looked on, Jesus was transfigured and his body and clothing shone with a radiant light. Two figures, identified as Moses and Elijah, appeared with him. Peter cryptically suggested that he build tents or dwellings for the three glorified figures. A cloud, however, overshadowed them, and a divine voice identified Jesus as the Son of God. The voice, the cloud, the light and the heavenly attendants then vanished to leave Jesus alone with the disciples.

The appearance of the risen Jesus to his disciples is the origin of the early Christian movement. But there are no witnesses to the moment of resurrection. The empty tomb is the first sign of Christ's victory over sin and death. The Gospel accounts of the transfiguration, therefore, provide the best visual clue to the nature of Christ's resurrection from death to life and the resurrection of all human beings at the end of time. The transfiguration shows what happens when the divine reality is fully manifest in human existence.

The Greek word for transfiguration in the New Testament, metamorphosis, designates a change in shape or figure. It refers to the change in Christ's physical appearance to his disciples and the change that is effected through participation in his glorified life. Hence, Paul can write that "we all with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord are being transfigured into the same image from glory to glory" (2 Cor. 3: 18). Transfiguration is both an event in the life of Christ and a process in the life of the world.

Significantly, the transfiguration takes place on a mountain. In Christian legend, the mountain is Tabor. The mountain, a sacred space in ancient Jewish cosmology, is where heaven and earth, God and humanity, meet. The heavenly light that radiates from the body of Jesus attests both to his divinity and to the transformative power of his divine presence. Even the inanimate; material creation is affected. The clothes of Jesus glow so brightly that "no one on earth could bleach them" (Mark 9:3). In Matthew's Gospel, the face of Jesus shines "like the sun," while his clothing becomes "white as the light" (Matt. 17:2). In Luke, the appearance of Christ's face is altered and the disciples see the divine glory in it. The glory of Christ on the mountain is thus the "true light" that, in John's Gospel, "enlightens everyone" and is "coming into the world" (John 1:9).

Moses and Elijah are recipients of revelations on Mount Sinai during climactic periods in the history of Israel. Moses, the leader of the exodus from Egypt and the giver of the Law, and Elijah, the first of the major Jewish prophets, together represent Israel's past. Jesus, however, is understood in the New Testament as Israel's future, the promised Messiah. In Luke, the transfiguration fore shadows the new exodus that Jesus accomplishes when he arrives in Jerusalem.

The cloud and the voice are familiar motifs in the Hebrew Bible. The cloud recalls the one that followed the Jews in the wilderness, alternatively dark during the day and luminous at night. Moses enters the cloud before encountering God on Mount Sinai. The cloud also symbolizes the Jewish notion of the Shekinah, the indwelling presence or immanence of the Divine in creation and with God's chosen people. Its appearance with the voice proclaiming Jesus as the divine Son associates it with the Holy Spirit, who appears in the form of a dove with the same voice at Jesus' baptism. The voice from above is, of course, that of God, classically interpreted as the first person of the Trinity. The radical change in the appearance of Jesus, in conjunction with the cloud and the divine voice, reveals that he is no ordinary prophet but rather the fulfillment of prophecy, the promised Messiah, the presence of God in the flesh. The transfiguration, like other key events in the Gospels, testifies to the trinitarian nature of God as well as the divinity of Christ.

The transfiguration provides a window through which the Christian narrative may be viewed. J. W. C. Wand, an Anglican theologian, wrote several decades ago that "it is actually possible to regard transfiguration as the fundamental idea in the Christian religion and as placing in a nutshell the whole story of the individual Christian life as well indeed as that of society as a whole." The transfiguration looks backward to God's presence in creation and the history of Israel and forward to the redemption of the world and its final, glorious consummation in Christ. In the theology of the patristic period and the later Christian East, the transfiguration is interpreted as a disclosure of the divinity of Christ, a unique visual display of the glory of God that shows the salvific nature of Christ's life, death and resurrection and the eschatological consummation of all things. The transfigured body of Jesus anticipates the divinization of humanity (in the language of the East) and the final transformation of the cosmos.

The transfiguration of Christ has not received a great deal of attention in modern theology. Some scholars regard it as a mythological accretion or as a postresurrection event adapted and incorporated into the life of Jesus by the writers of the synoptic Gospels. But several books on the transfiguration have recently appeared in English.

Raniero Cantalamessa depicts the transfiguration as a mystery in the life of Christ" that should lead us into an intellectual and mystical contemplation of his person and work. The transfiguration is a visible manifestation of Christ's divinity in his humanity. For Cantalamessa, the glorification of Christ on the mountain is an ideal vista from which to observe two classical theological approaches to Christ, one "from below" that moves from his humanity to his divinity and one "from above" that moves from his divinity to his humanity. The former approach, represented by Paul and the Antiochian school of Christology, emphasizes Christ's self-emptying, obedient death on the cross as the locus of salvation. The latter approach, taking its cue from John and the school of Alexandria, regards salvation as the consequence of the deifying effects of the incarnation of the Word in human nature. The transfiguration narrative, balanced between heaven and earth, incarnation and resurrection, unites the two approaches by showing the glory of Christ's obedient victory over death in the form of his incarnate humanity.

Dorothy Lee offers a commentary on the biblical texts that highlights the sacramental and eschatological dimensions of the transfiguration. Lee follows the ancient church and describes the transfiguration as both an epiphany and an apocalyptic vision that "discloses the face of God and the hope of God's future." The materiality of the transfiguration points both to the incarnation of God in Christ and the presence of God in the sacraments. The Eastern church, as Lee notes, invokes the transfiguration in its celebration of the Lord's Supper. This materiality belies any attempt to interpret salvation in exclusively spiritual or ecclesial terms, for it is the whole world that is the field of God's action in Christ.

Lee acknowledges that the transfiguration takes place in a world that remains disfigured by sin. But the transfiguration is evidence that we have reason to be optimistic about the future of our world. "The hope of salvation," Lee writes, "is the promise of a world remade, all the diversity and complexity of creation enfolded in the one pure, uncontaminated beam of light. The transfiguration is about the renewing and restoring of the earth." The Christian faith in the transfiguration of the world in Christ may thus be marshaled in support of a global and ecological consciousness.

The material, visible nature of the transfiguration makes it a natural subject for painting, and it has played a central role in the development of Eastern iconography. Andreas Andreopoulos and Solrunn Nes both explore the relationship between theological and iconographic representations of the transfiguration in the Eastern church. In 787, the seventh ecumenical council in Nicea resolved the controversy over icons by declaring that both word and image may lead to knowledge of God. The icon is a visual supplement to the written Word of the scriptures and a source of theology in its own right. The image often represents what cannot be put into words but may yet be displayed through visual means. Icons of the transfiguration, for example, depict Christ inside a round or oval mandorla, a sacred space around his body that symbolizes his glory and the divine dimension of his being. Major icons of the transfiguration, moreover, such as the sixth-century mosaics in the apse of the monastery of St. Catherine at Mount Sinai and St. Apollinaris Church in Ravenna, or the 14th-century icons of Andrei Rublev and Theophane the Greek, did not just reflect but substantially contributed to the development of Byzantine theology.

As both Andreopoulos and Nes observe, Eastern writers viewed the transfiguration narrative as a model of our own spiritual ascent toward God, a process by which our spiritual senses gradually awaken to a perception of the divine beauty. Desert fathers such as Pseudo-Macarius associated the light shining from Christ's body and clothing with the interior illumination of the mystic. The mysticism of 14th-century Eastern Christianity, hesychasm, interpreted this light as a manifestation of the uncreated light of God. The uncreated light fills all matter and is the source of its radiance. The purpose of ascetic and contemplative practices in the East is for the purification of our senses so that we may perceive the light of God in ourselves and all things. Icons of the transfiguration aim to both portray the theology of the uncreated light and facilitate our participation in it.

In Christian spiritual practice, iconography may serve as a starting point for the contemplation of the transfigured Christ. Kenneth Stevenson begins his book with a meditation on an icon painted by Theophanes the Greek and explores the transfiguration for what it tells us both about Christ and about ourselves. Stevenson wrote his volume during a period of recovery from leukemia, and its pages alternate between a theological interpretation of the transfiguration and personal reflections on his own transfiguring experience of surviving a serious illness. Stevenson draws upon a wide range of writers, including the church fathers Origen and Augustine; medieval theologians, notably Peter the Venerable; the giants of Eastern theology Maximus the Confessor and Gregory Palamas; and Protestant figures like John Hacket, Mark Frank and Nicolai Grundtvig. Their multiple perspectives, taken together, show the transfiguration to shed light on most of the central Christian doctrines about God, Christ, the church and humanity.

Stevenson does not stop with theology, however. His readings of various theologians deftly move through each successive stage of the transfiguration narrative and show how it illumines his own process of recovery. The disciples' ascent of the mountain, for example, recalls the difficulty of any personal journey, while the change in the appearance of Jesus is a stark reminder of the physical alterations caused by chemotherapy treatments. The voice of God from the cloud resounds through our own, more mundane experiences of hearing God speak to us. For Stevenson, the transfiguration is not only about the momentary vision on the mountain, but also about the return to the world of everyday life where God works in more familiar ways.

John Dear also examines the transfiguration for what it tells us about the Christian spiritual life. For Dear, a peace activist, any genuine spiritual ascent must be accompanied by a commitment to contemplative nonviolence, social justice and radical Christian discipleship. "Peacemaking," he writes, "is not an optional commitment. It is a requirement of our faith." The transfiguration reveals not only the divine light but also the divine peace. Ironically, the feast day of the transfiguration and the anniversary of the U.S. bombing of Hiroshima occur on the same day, August 6. As Dear notes, Dorothy Day called the U.S. bombing an "antitransfiguration," the opposite of the hope for the world embodied in the glorification of Christ on Tabor. The mountaintop experience, in the lives of great social activists such as Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., motivates them to descend from the mountain and work for the transformation of the world.

Dear refuses to separate moral and spiritual formation in the Christian community from the Christian responsibility to witness to God's redemptive presence in human history. He thus reminds us, as we face a potentially defining moment in the history of America, of the theological warrants for Christian involvement in movements of social and political change. The Christian hope, after all, is that Christ will come again, not to destroy but to renew and transfigure God's creation. "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them" (Rev. 21:3). The Christian faith in the God whose light shines from the holy mountain empowers us to confront all the forces of darkness in our midst. We do not need to choose between religious and secular fanaticism, the god of death and the death of God. We worship a God of life. And the God of life has already died and risen from the dead for the transfiguration of the whole world.

 

 

An Interview with Ken Burns

Ken Burns's acclaimed documentaries include The Civil War, Baseball, Jazz and, most recently, an account of World War II titled The War. His work has won Emmys, Grammys and numerous other awards and has been nominated for Academy Awards. He is working on a series on the national parks.

 

What is your own religious background and identity?

I was born an Episcopalian and was at best a haphazard attendee. I have had a rich spiritual life that has its roots in Christianity, but I have not been afraid to explore. I find myself in the tradition of the founders--what Thomas Jefferson would call a deist, I guess--interested less in the organized forms of religion than in spiritual pursuit as a way toward the perfectibility of an imperfectible species called human beings.

One of your earliest films was about the Shakers. What attracted you to that subject?

The thing that draws anyone to a spiritual pursuit--feeling a larger "why," a why bigger than oneself. I remember driving past Hancock Shaker Village in western Massachusetts, seeing the exquisite proportions of a round, stone barn, slamming on the brakes and going to the museum, then reading meticulously the interpretive materials on the walls--and still needing to know more. Who were these people?

There is a theory of secularization according to which modernization means that religion is becoming less and less significant in the West. The Shakers are literally dying out. Were you thinking in that framework at that time? Do you think religion will become less significant in the American experience?

One looks at Western Europe and sees the decline of the formal teachings of faith. One is mindful of a human history that is filled with so much slaughter and inhumanity, which is quite often sponsored by religions or is the result of tensions between religions. Part of you wants to dispense with the unnecessary structures of a church in favor of what is part of the genius of the United States--being able to worship God on my own.

At the same time, I would hope that spirituality does not succumb to the logic of reason and empiricism. We are all faced daily with mysteries beyond our comprehension. Part of what we do in literature and in art, as well as in religion, is attempt to superimpose some order, some meaning, on what seems to be the randomness of the cosmos. In that superimposition are often the most beautiful things that human beings do--not just in the production of art and literature or the glory of cathedrals but in human relations. I would hope with every fiber of my being that that would not leave us.

Do you have any plans to return sometime to religious subject matter?

You can't approach American history in any form without religion entering in. Would I choose it as the main topic again, as I've done with The Shakers? I don't know. But if you look, for example, at my most recent film, The War, you will see that issues of faith and spirituality abound in it, in very poignant moments and in humorous ones. At Anzio, where the Germans had the American troops pinned down, one soldier says, "God help us." And then he adds, "Don't send Jesus. You come yourself. This is no place for children." At one point when we were in the editing room with nothing better to do, we counted a dozen references to spirituality or God or faith in every episode.

It's also there in my baseball series. On April 17, 1947, when Jack Roosevelt Robinson, the grandson of a slave, made his way to first base, becoming the first African American in the modern era to play at the major-league level, it was Passover. The youngest male in a family in Brooklyn, as I recall, was asking the familiar question, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The father said, "Because a black man is playing in major-league baseball." That still brings tears to my eyes.

At the heart, every religious teaching is about reconciliation. It is about making one out of the many. It is e pluribus unum. All of my films are about that in some way.

It seems that you choose subjects that you think are worth celebrating. Do you think that the Christian faith in the American experience is worth celebrating?

Absolutely. I think I am leery about pursuing it in a direct way--only because it then becomes appropriated by those who wish to use religion as a bludgeon, as a tool, as a political wedge, and that is not the purpose of religion or what I'm about. My mission--and I'm happy to say that there is a huge evangelical dimension to what I'm doing--is preaching the gospel of Americanism, but one that is mindful of the fact that it is not separated from questions of the spirit and the soul's survival.

Having said that, I think it's also important to say that I believe absolutely in the separation of church and state. I would make the wall even bigger and wider. The genius of America, again, is being able to worship God on our own. When religion becomes a force in government, it has lost its raison d'être.

What is "the gospel of Americanism" to you?

The image in my mind is of free electrons in an atom, careening in random ways. It's the associations of certain political and personal impulses toward freedom, a certain relationship to the land and place, and the willingness to understand that a component of my participation is being bound back to the whole that is bigger than myself. We watch Europe--states that have spent a lot of time fighting each other--now finding strength in a common market. But that is something Americans figured out early on.

Are there religious leaders, either historical or today, whom you particularly admire?

I would like nothing more than to do a biographical film on Martin Luther King Jr. I think he was the epitome of a great religious leader--someone who could be utterly American, bring a political and social as well as a spiritual dimension, and do so with authenticity and grace, so that his work did not become a cudgel with which to separate people.

Do you ever think about doing a story that does not have an American theme?

I think about it all the time, but I can't seem to do that. It may be like marrying outside my religion. My religion is here, this is what I know. I can be drawn in an abstract or intellectual way to a subject, but what finally pulls the trigger for me is a deeply emotional response to something. And the only ones that I've had this response to are American subjects.

I was approached a number of years ago to see if I was interested in doing a film on Freud and C. S. Lewis, having as its main theme the question of faith. Freud spent his entire life trying to prove the folly of religion. C. S. Lewis grew up in the world that Freud helped to create and came up with an almost scientific proof of God's existence. It could have been a wonderful project, but I found myself interested only in the time that Freud visited Worcester, Massachusetts!

What would you think of working on subject matter such as the history of evangelicalism, the Roman Catholic experience in America, the ministry of historic mainline Protestant churches, or the Mormons?

I find the Mormons hugely interesting. In my history film The West, one of the story lines follows the Mormon experience. I could see revisiting that anytime. And I could see myself tackling any of the topics you have brought up. I made a film about Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony in which the story of the temperance movement intersected with religion. Happily, abolitionism was born in the church. History intersects with religion all the time. I am working on a film on the history of Prohibition right now. Prohibition too, of course, was born in the church.

I am never far away from these concerns. In a sense, I make the same film over and over. Each film asks the same deceptively simply question: Who am I? This is the resounding question that has animated all the great religions: Why am I here? What is my purpose? Where do I come from? Where am I going? What is bigger than me? One can ask that question standing on the edge of Yosemite Valley, as naturalist John Muir did, or standing in awe on the rim of the Grand Canyon and reaching out for the hand of someone next to you as you look at--as the first episode of my series The National Parks describes it--"the scripture of nature."

~~~~~~~~

 

 

Living by the Word (Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43; Romans 8:12-25)

When I sit with the Washington Post and my morning coffee, I have a sense that I'm hovering on a threshold; like many Americans, I remember September 11 and feel as if I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. It often seems as if ours is the most anxious time in history, at least from our selfish perspective in a remarkably affluent and outwardly secure corner of God's world. We Americans have been shaken. We live with heightened awareness of the unease, the shakiness and uncertainty, the sense of foreboding that is part of the human condition.

We're not alone in this, however. There is a universality in Paul's depiction of an anxious time of suffering. All creation, he tells us, is poised: waiting for fulfillment, waiting with eager longing for something. There is the same universality in the story Jesus tells: the field is almost ready for the harvest, but it's far from perfect. What should be a bountiful crop of wheat is going to be half weeds. But until that harvest, when there will be a drastic sorting out, weeds and wheat must be left to grow. If the wheat--a universal symbol of nourishment--flourishes, so too do the useless, choking weeds. We wait for the time of decision, the irrevocable sorting out that comes at the end.

The juxtaposition of this Gospel text and a passage from Paul's letter to the Romans reminds us that we aren't there yet. Both passages suggest that this is a time of waiting, of letting things grow and unfold. But it's also a time of looking forward to some sort of resolution, an end time. We live in the "not yet." We are poised on the threshold.

So what else is new? We wait edgily, not for an al-Qaeda strike or other random, terrifying destruction, but, in Paul's words, "to obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God." To use the imagery employed by Jesus in his parable, we await the coming of God's kingdom. In different ways, Jesus and Paul are heralding the inbreaking of God's rule on earth, the fulfillment of all our hopes and prayers when we pray--alas, sometimes mindlessly--that God's kingdom come on earth and God's will be done on earth (in Washington, D.C., Afghanistan and Iraq, in affluent suburbs and in blighted inner cities).

We wait. If we knew precisely how and when the waiting would end, then our life in Christ would be simply an exercise in pious persistence. It would be like waiting at the airport until our flight is announced, or standing in line at the supermarket checkout. The tension in this kind of waiting is more tedium than anxiety.

Waiting for the inbreaking of the kingdom, however, is like no other kind of waiting. It is not the routine, humdrum marking of time in our daily lives, or the terror and dread of devastation. It is waiting in hope for something that is not seen, yet yearning for it with a longing that is beyond words. This yearning for the coming of the kingdom is yearning for God.

Both Jesus and Paul use powerful images of growth and fruition. Paul, who surely had little if any firsthand experience with the wondrous process of human birth, tells us that all of creation--which means all of humankind, all of us--is groaning in the pangs of childbirth. Just as the field of wheat with its intermingled weeds grows at its own pace, so birth cannot be hurried. Birth happens when it happens.

But what about those noxious weeds? What about the judgment Jesus makes so very clear in this parable? I'm in no hurry for that final day--I'm happy to muddle on for a bit, living into the promise of things hoped for but not seen. Just having the promise is enough for now. But lately I find myself thinking quite a bit about the weeds and wondering whether they have anything to do with me. I try to persuade myself that Jesus is talking about someone else, someone unworthy of saving, all those people who surely have no place in God's kingdom. Surely he's talking about those weedy people whom I would consign to the compost heap if not to the cleansing fire. It's much more comforting to hope that I am pure wheat and that the weeds are quite disposable.

But perhaps the concept of weeds is more complicated than I thought. In my honest moments, I fear that I am not pure wheat, but that I have some qualities of the weeds in me, qualities that I need to be free of before I can be truly fruitful. Or maybe I fail to grow and thrive because--fine-quality durum wheat that I am--I let myself be choked and thwarted by the weeds around me.

I bounce back and forth between these two pictures. On the one hand, the people of God are filled with the yearning for God; on the other, they are part of God's garden, active and growing toward the ultimate harvest. Both images remind us that we are living in a not-yet time, that we live in radical trust that God's promise will be fulfilled. We wait. We labor. We hope for that which is not seen, but somehow knowing that what Paul calls our glorious liberty as children of God is all that truly matters.

 

Living by the Word (Matthew (13:31-33, 44-49a)

When Jesus tells a story, he compels us to look at holy things with new eyes, and he illustrates his stories with references to ordinary, homely things. If he were operating in the 21st century, I doubt that he would need a blackboard for complex mathematical formulas, or the arcane jargon of a modern expert--whether economist, computer maven, biochemist or theologian. Jesus told stories about ordinary things to explain the extraordinary, the inexplicable.

His gift of imagery is one of the great gifts available to us as humans Because most of us never outgrow our childhood love of pictures, we respond well to teaching that invites us to create pictures in our minds Imagery helps us to grasp that which cannot be quantified, measured or neatly captured in words, charts or formulas. With images, we manage to approach the intellectually and spiritually unfathomable because we are led gently, told that a God who ultimately is beyond our comprehension is like a shepherd, a king, a loving parent, a mighty fortress or a maternal figure with great sheltering wings.

In this passage from Matthew's Gospel, Jesus is teaching his friends about the kingdom of heaven, which is the same as the kingdom of God. Although kings are now out of fashion, and the mystique of royalty has eroded, they were real figures of absolute power and grandeur in Jesus' time. I doubt that his hearers had had any more direct contact with kings than any of us has had. But they understood the vocabulary of kings and kingdoms even though they did not always understand what Jesus was trying to tell them.

We have enough residual memory to glimpse what Jesus is telling us about God and God's reign. When he speaks of the "Kingdom of heaven," we are reminded that God is absolute, that God's reign is not a democracy or even a republic. At the same time, we're reminded of our own smallness and limitations in God's great economy.

And when we pray regularly, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," we realize that we aren't praying for the establishment of some grandiose political entity in the fashion of extravagant King Herod or the British Empire in its glory days.

So what are we praying for when we pray, "Thy kingdom come"? What are we asking for?

Jesus gives us some hints. It's like this, this and this, he says--offering tantalizing bits of imagery for all sorts of people: the farmer who finds a treasure in the field, the shrewd financier who recognizes the ultimate good investment, the plant enthusiast who marvels at the growth produced by one tiny seed, the angler who finds a shoal full of fish, and--humblest and to me most appealing--the homemaker preparing to bake bread.

There are common qualities in these images. The kingdom of heaven is hidden, buried in a field or in the depths of sea, and of great value, a treasure or a pearl. Moreover, despite an unremarkable outward appearance, it possesses surprising power. The unprepossessing mustard seed contains an astonishing potential for growth, while leaven--ordinary old leaven that doesn't look like much--has the power to transform all that surrounds it.

At one time I was a fairly competent bread maker. I baked all our family's bread and came to know and respect the mysterious power of leaven. The yeast I used was a grainy, grayish substance without much taste or smell. In Jesus' time, the yeast was a little lump of active dough that was carefully saved from a previous baking. Like my little packets of yeast, it carried within it the secret of growth and fermentation, the power to Change something that vastly exceeded it in volume. A couple of spoonfuls could work amazing changes in a bowl of flour.

But leaven sitting all by itself can't do anything. It needs the right conditions: it must be mixed with flour; the temperature must be warm enough but not too warm; there must be liquid and a bit of salt.

Then the leaven does its work, quietly, taking its own time, but ultimately transforming a sodden, useless lump of dough into bread.

I love this picture of the subversiveness of God, even if it makes me uneasy to contemplate the hiddenness of God's kingdom. This kingdom is right here, right now, as invisible and as unobtrusive as a lively, enlivening bit of leaven stirred into the inertness of the flour. Jesus reminds us that the kingdom is both coming and already here. He reminds us that the power of God can be and is working in us if we let ourselves be open to it and take it into ourselves. After all, like the leaven that works only when it is combined with flour, the kingdom of God, the power of God, is among us, permeating every aspect of our lives, changing, enlightening and transforming us.