Strategic Mysticism

Some Thoughts (and Questions) on the Social Dimension of Contemplative Practice

If we live as hermits, whose feet shall we wash?

Theodore Parker (1810-1860), Unitarian Minister and anti-slavery abolitionist, is remembered in our time largely because of one brilliant comment.

I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.

If this sounds familiar, it is because of how often Martin Luther King Jr. (and later, Barack Obama) quoted Parker, only paraphrasing the above statement like this:

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.

Not everyone likes this sentiment; I’ve encountered criticism that sniffs about how this is wishful thinking; as a matter of fact, we do not know where the “moral arc” of the universe is taking us. Perhaps if you’ve signed on to the basic worldview of Christianity, you might agree that in the end, God is in control, and no matter how bad things might seem to get here on earth, we can trust that Divine Providence is ultimately in charge and will ultimately direct the many threads of existence toward a good and satisfying conclusion:

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

I’m not crazy about how St. Paul seems to suggest that all things work for good only for “those who love God” — why wouldn’t goodness be shared even with those who don’t love God, not because of what they might deserve, but because of the compassionate generosity of God? But whether sovereign goodness is for everybody or only for the chosen few, it’s still a concept that is pretty much baked in to the Christian world-view.

Meanwhile, we live in the so-called post-Christian era. What this means is that more and more people simply do not agree with the Christian view of how the world works; indeed, with the passage of time fewer people are even familiar with the Christian world-view, regardless of whether they agree with it or not.

Does the moral arc of the universe bend toward justice, no matter how long it might take? From St. Paul to Obama and beyond, Christians would answer this “yes.” More and more people today, however, are either saying “I’m not sure” or simply, “No, I don’t believe that.”

Which leads me to the topic of strategic mysticism.

Taking Mount Carmel… By Strategy?

On the surface, strategic mysticism sounds like an oxymoron. Strategy, after all, is a military concept — or at least a concept associated with competitive contexts, like sports, politics or business. Strategy, according to Wikipedia, is “a general plan to achieve one or more long-term or overall goals under conditions of uncertainty.” So it involves planning, goals, and achievement — qualities not commonly associated with the contemplative life.

Mysticism, a spirituality grounded in mystery, tends to be relational rather than competitive, oriented toward the present moment (and/or toward eternity) rather than toward some planned or hoped-for future, and is not oriented toward achievement since the focus is on divine grace rather than human effort.

In other words, mysticism appears to be pretty unstrategic. Like Felix Ungar and Oscar Madison, strategy and mysticism are an odd couple. So why am I linking these two seemingly unrelated and perhaps even unrelatable concepts together?

Back to Theodore Parker, MLK and Obama — and their fashionable naysayers and doubters. Granted, as a matter of fact, we simply do not know if the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice — or if the cosmos we inhabit in fact has no ultimate meaning. No one can say for sure. But we also don’t know that the moral arc of the universe doesn’t bend toward justice, either. It seems to me that, in the absence of clear evidence one way or the other, we human beings are faced with only one meaningful choice:

If we want the moral arc of the universe to bend toward justice rather than toward chaos or meaninglessness, then it is up to us to calibrate our own lives and commitments toward the justice that we hope will ultimately be there.

There’s a saying that is commonly attributed to Gandhi (it may just be one of those feel-good Internet quotes that nobody knows its ultimate origin, but for our purpose, we can let Gandhi take the credit):

Be the change that you wish to see in the world.

Don’t just complain that the positive thing you want to see happen, isn’t happening. If you want to see something, then embody it.

So if Gandhi and Parker had a conversation, isn’t this where it would go:

Be the embodiment of the moral arc that bends toward justice, and may we all live our lives accordingly.

Don’t Dream It; Be It

I have written elsewhere about how, many years ago, the English theologian Kenneth Leech challenged me not to call myself a mystic, since that would be an expression of ego (and perhaps a bit of narcissism). So, instead of fixating on the label, Ken’s advice was simple: “Don’t call yourself a mystic; just be a mystic.” Be the change: be the moral arc bending toward justice; be a mystic.

Is strategic mysticism starting to make sense?

At this point I need to make a confession: writing this essay is a bit of “physician, heal thyself.”

I am an introvert with a lifetime’s supply of social anxiety. What that means is that I tend to be happiest when I’m alone, or in the company of just a few close friends and loved ones. I’ll take an intimate dinner date with my spouse and 2-4 close friends over a big party any day of the week (if you’ve ever seen me speak or a lead a retreat, don’t worry: I like doing those things too! But still, the happiest of my happy places tends to be pretty secluded and solitary).

I tend to do spirituality, contemplation and mysticism the way I do life in general: I like all these things in solitude. Centering prayer by myself? It’s a gift. Reading Julian of Norwich in the solitude of my home office? Pure delight. Seeking the Divine Will as I pray alone in the woods or by the ocean? It doesn’t get any better than this.

I bet a lot of people who are drawn to mystical and contemplative spirituality feel like this. Many of us are introverts, after all: INFP on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. We aren’t misanthropes (at least, not necessarily), but we do enjoy our solitude and we love our spirituality served up with a generous helping of quiet, seclusion, and solitary stillness.

I hope the world we live in, no matter how raucous or crowded it gets, will always make room for the introverts and social misfits who need solitude, seclusion, and stillness in order to make their hearts sing and their spirits soar.

But (you knew there had to be a “but,” right?)… if mysticism and contemplation are only about solitude and seclusion, then we have some problems.

St. Basil’s Challenge

In the immortal words of St. Basil the Great, famously challenging the spirituality of the solitary monks and nuns in the desert, “If you live as a hermit, whose feet shall you wash?” The mystical path, at least within Christianity, is a path of love — for human beings as well as for God. We are love our neighbors as ourselves: which means both love your neighbors as fully as you love your self, but also to love nondually, recognizing that in the Spirit, “self” and “other” are ultimately one.

But what does this have to do with strategy?

It’s no secret that we live in a world which is not conducive to contemplation. Ours is a world that is noisy, and getting noisier.

There has been a 40% increase in number of cars on the road over the past 25 years. With the greatest amount of ambient noise coming from traffic, and a large number of additional cars driving the roads each year, no wonder everything sounds louder! Particularly in cities, which are experiencing accelerated growth in the past few years. So, yes, our cities are in fact getting louder — it’s not all just in your head. — Erik Veach (Source)

Cars aren’t the only source of noise pollution: anything that has a screen is probaby also generating sound, wanted or unwanted. Our entertainment, from music to movies to sports, is also getting louder (and harder to escape). Even houses of worship are louder: the piano and organ that your grandmother worshipped with has been replaced by electric guitars and drums.

But it’s not just noise pollution that is the enemy of contemplation.

Economic instability and inequality, social forms of oppression (racism, sexism, homophobia, etc.), environmental degradation, lack of access to nature and green spaces, work demands that reduce the amount of leisure time available to employees… ironically, most of the problems in our society that contribute to suffering and injustice also tend to be obstacles to contemplative practice.

If those of us who are committed to contemplation simply ignore the problems of the world, we may find that those problems make it harder and harder for us to adhere to our contemplative practice. If you don’t have access to silence, or to solitude, or to serenity, or to ways and places where you can be still, then eventually you will not be able to care for your own inner mystic.

This may sound alarmist, but I think it’s a matter of common sense.

So what does it mean to be a strategic mystic? Or (if like me you don’t tend to call yourself a mystic) a strategic contemplative? I think this is about pairing our faithfulness to interior practice with a set of values, principles, and commitments to work for making the world a better place, which includes making it more congenial for contemplation, but simultaneously making it more congenial to justice, to shared prosperity, to the preservation of values that support the life and work of contemplative practitioners.

As I write this, I’m feeling some humility: not only is this a “physician, heal thyself” post, but it’s also a “thinking out loud” post. I don’t have a grand call to action to share with you, a blueprint for how mystics and contemplatives can work hard to make the world a better place (and a place that is more contemplative-friendly to boot). In fact, I’m writing this not just to exhort all my dear readers into become contemplative activists, but rather to ask that we work together, to discern together — to be co-discerners — as we reflect on questions like these:

• What does our society, indeed our entire world, need for the contemplative life to be preserved and safeguarded for generations to come?

• How can our political and economic values reflect our commitment to mystical and contemplative spirituality?

• What do we need to do to remain hopeful and committed to making our world a better place, even when so many forces at work in our time seem to be making our world less just, less peaceful, and less friendly to contemplation?

• What are the social, economic, and political forces that militate against the spacious freedom of contemplation and mystical living? What is required of us to oppose those forces?

• What is the strategy for being a mystic (or a contemplative) who is committed not just to the purity of our own private practice, but to helping to foster a world that is contemplative-friendly for all people?

Obviously, I cannot single-handedly answer these questions. “It takes a village” — if it takes a village to raise a child, it certainly takes a village to enact a contemplative strategy, a plan or project for helping the moral arc of the universe bend not only toward justice, but toward silence, inner beauty, and the qualities of life necessary to foster the experience of Divine Union.

I hope you will wrestle with these questions alongside me. I hope you’ll email me, or leave comments on this or other posts, to reflect your own discernment on this questions, and the questions or insights or crazy ideas that emerge from within your heart as you wrestle with this matter. I think strategic mysticism is necessary: but it’s not going to be imposed upon us from “above.” We have to discern this call from deep within. And that kind of discernment requires each other.

May we discern well, discern together, and share what we think or believe or know, with each other and. with an eye toward how to make this world a better place.