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By Martin L. Smith
Washington Window
Vol. 73, No. 3, February 2004
Most people have some experience of the stages of romantic
and sexual love. The initial euphoria of infatuation and attraction peaks
and then declines, giving way in due course to a bond that is more sustainable
and down-to-earth. And this common script for intimacy isn’t something
merely cultural; we haven’t just been brainwashed to expect the
“honeymoon” stage of love to be short-lived. It is, we have
recently discovered, rooted in our body’s chemistry, as the levels
of different ‘love chemicals’ - dopamine, norepinephrine and
many more - fluctuate in the brain in ways we can’t control. Amazing!
It is a script worth remembering when we consider typical
patterns of religious experience. Many people have an exciting period
of conversion or spiritual intensification when God’s closeness
becomes very real for the first time. Often there are peak religious experiences
of devotion, awe, gratitude, compunction. We feel exalted, and we are
blessed by feelings of warmth and uplifting purposefulness. But usually
this doesn’t last long and we don’t always know how to cope
with the onset of spiritual let down that can follow.
Some of us turn to religious stimulants to jump-start
the earlier feelings - another revival service, Cursillo, a retreat, new
forms of devotion. Others fall prey to feelings of guilt - “I mustn’t
be a very good Christian after all.” Or anger - “God has let
me down by abandoning me after a brief honeymoon.” Others settle
for a life of faithful Christian service and worship, and keep as a secret
the fact that inside they feel pretty secular and have given up expecting
God to touch them with any ‘religious experiences.’
Many of the great spiritual classics deal with just
this common story. The best teachers acknowledge the initial value of
religious peak experiences as ways in which God seizes our imagination.
But they are very aware of the risks associated with them. They know only
too well that if we have all sorts of consoling and sweet and passionate
feelings, we can begin to confuse them with God and start to be dependent
on them. When we are deprived of the pleasure of those beautiful spiritual
feelings, then we can respond with a melodrama of our own creation, and
start resenting God for ‘abandoning’ us. This resentment can
fester as cynicism. Often the bitterest agnostics are those who used to
be devout and committed Christians. Perhaps Jesus was alluding to this
tragic reversal when he spoke about the vulnerability of some of those
who have a deep spiritual awakening and healing only to be invaded by
“seven devils worse than the first.”
The mystics teach us that God is responsible for weaning
us off the early religious “highs.” In spite of the stress
of feeling so much less spiritual than we used to, the disappointment
that God no longer visits us in special moments of closeness and consolation
and insight, the end of the honeymoon is for our good. It is an invitation
to another stage of intimacy with God, a more mystical one. And by mystical
we mean one marked by a deep intuition that God is in and around every
experience, not just ‘religious’ or ‘spiritual’
experiences. The onset of a more mystical sense of God can only come when
we give up identifying God with this or that special type of feeling or
event. It dawns on us that God is not one of the actors in life’s
drama, entering the stage one minute only to exit again. God is the theater
and the play.
Alan Watts has written one of the best summaries of
the classic spiritual teaching. “A mirror is only present to our
eyes by reason of what it reflects, whether light or darkness, white or
black, shape or color. But we are nonetheless aware that there is a mirror
transcending and underlying the reflection. The color of a mirror does
not distort or contest place with the color it reflects. In the same way
the mystical awareness of God does not contest place with other experiences
and states of mind. Mental states such as joy, sorrow, exaltation, dejection,
pleasure and pain, are as a rule mutually exclusive. But the mystical
stage is inclusive, just as God and His love include the whole universe.
There is no conflict between experiencing the Now and things which happen
in the Now.”
Losing our dependence on special religious experiences
can open us to another perspective from which we can sense God as the
presence which invisibly contains all our experiences, however humdrum
or vexing, or beautiful or complicated or ordinary. We can stop expecting
God to get between us and the things we encounter and learn to appreciate
God as the oneness, the connection that enables us to relate to each and
every one of them.
Martin L. Smith is a well-known spiritual writer
and priest. He is on the staff of the United States Holocaust Memorial
Museum.
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