Separation of Church and State?

Author John Hendrix has been awarded a 2018 Illustrators Gold Medal for his artistic work and "The Faithful Spy" would clearly have to be recognized. His artwork and design of this book, quickly draws the reader into the life of pastor, activist, and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The art makes the book read with the fast pace a novel.

Bonhoeffer has been a keen interest of mine for almost twenty-five years, having written a dissertation on his life and work. Hendrix’s most recent Young Adult book is an excellent retelling of Bonhoeffer’s involvement in the failed plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. Hendrix uses a blend of the graphic novel style with well researched history to create an interesting and approachable account of Bonhoeffer’s mixture of theology and activism. As a Christian passivist, Bonhoeffer’s decision to participate in the attempt to assassinate Hitler was an agonizing one and Hendrix’ account the pastor’s pain extraordinarily clear.

Bonhoeffer was a fascinating character on the European theater leading to and during World War II. He challenged the authority of his government and church; both which had become complicit in Hitler’s autocratic reign of terror. Bonhoeffer spoke out against anti-Semitism, racism, and the insidious intertwining of nationalism and religion early in Hitler’s rise to power. His part in the assassination attempt led to his execution by the Nazi’s. Hendrix’s telling of the story is straightforward and without bias.

Only in the “Author’s Note” at the end of the book does Hendrix mention any personal motivation for writing the book at this time in history. He writes that Bonhoeffer’s story “demonstrates how quickly a good and noble people can become infatuated with hatred. It is not a lesson for Germany alone…The line between national decency and a descent into fear and hatred is, and always will be, razor thin. Any nation that assumes it is too righteous to fall into these same sins will risk making the mistakes that Germany did in the 1930’s.” Such is fair warning for America.

One scene missing, however, from Hendrix beautiful book is the infamous picture of the Nazi flag draped across a Christian altar. The chilling snapshot more than reveals how far down into political darkness the church would travel to protect its existence. I wonder why Hendrix left this most telling picture out of book. Personally, I’m disturbed by the countless number of United States Christian churches that are willing to place the American flag on their altars. Who are they worshipping? On whose strength are they relying? What history might they be willing to repeat for the sake of their survival? I thought America was built on the separation of church and state and in God we Trust. Is that still so?

Hendrix’s book is well worth sharing with young adults and their parents alike. And anyone else who might need a reminder of what autocratic leadership looks like.

A Different Look at the Enneagram

The Enneagram gained popularity as a personality typology tool in the 1980’s. The Enneagram is a nine-point star-like figure enclosed within a circle. Each point of the star represents a particular personality type. Those nine personality types are then influenced by the types adjacent to them (wings), as well as the types connected through the interior flow of the nine-point star. Teachers of the Enneagram fall into two basic camps; those who promote the “narrative model” and those who use a “quantitative assessment.” The narrative model relies on the person studying the Enneagram to choose self-selected descriptors of the nine personality types in order to determine their “Number.” The most popular online quantitative assessment is known as the Riso-Hudson Enneagram Type Indicator (RHETI). The RHETI, currently uses 144 questions to rank order the nine types with a numerical value.

One of the critiques of using any personality typology tool is stereotyping or simplifying the complexity of the human personality. Author Jerome Lubbe’s book, Whole Identity, is an attempt to remedy this concern. His model, he says, brings a wholistic approach to understanding the personality typology of the Enneagram.

Whole Identity, is by the author’s own description, a “white paper.” This small book is only volume one to which he anticipates additions. Therefore, any final conclusions about the validity of his model are not possible. Lubbe, however, has made four fundamental changes to the use and understanding of the Enneagram.

First, Lubbe presents his model as unique because he says he has based it on neuroscience. He has incorporated an elementary model of the two-hemisphere brain theory and fused it with the Enneagram’s personality typology. To do so, he makes his second fundamental change.

In order for his model to work, he has turned the Enneagram 180 degrees to the right. The Nine-type, which is normally at the top of the circle, is now at the bottom. He makes this change, because he says, in this position the Enneagram now mirrors the brain hemispheres.

Third, his method relies totally on a “qualitative assessment,” specifically the RHETI, which assigns a numerical value for each type. He uses these numbers to determine not only the primary type, but also the dominate wing, and the strength of either the mind, heart, body triad. By requiring a numerical value for each type, Lubbe thereby eliminates anyone using the “narrative typology” method from benefitting from his model. In the Enneagram, whether you use the narrative typology or the qualitative assessment could be a deal breaker.

And fourth, he has eliminated the interior connecting lines with the Enneagram; the determiners of the point of “stress” and “growth.” The lines that connect 3-6-9 and 1-4-2-8-5-7. It’s complicated, but again, for Enneagram traditionalists this may be too much for them to bear.

I have studied both the narrative and qualitative methods of the Enneagram. I find them both helpful in my understanding of my personality. Having taken the RHETI, I inserted my information into Labbe’s model. His system put to use the quantity assigned to all nine types of my personality. His technique established a numerical strength for each wing of the nine types; something I had not seen before. And his method quantified the strength of the heart, head, and body triads. Anyone who finds that numbers and percentages would benefit their use of the Enneagram might find Lubbe’s model worth a try.

Jesus the Spiritual Alchemist

I’ve just returned from six weeks of pilgrimage in Ireland. A mystical journey across a magical landscape filled with a lyrical language interpreted by metaphorical poetry. We communed with old friends and were introduced to new ones—both the living and the dead. As in the past, I was invited to view my spiritual travels through the alchemical worldview of W.B. Yeats. In a moment of synchronicity, we were privileged to see a recently discovered 8mm film of Yeats burial, presided over the local Anglican bishop. For some, this would have been an odd paradox given Yeats pan-Celtic yearnings. But for me, it beckoned me to lean in deeper to the intersection of alchemy and Anglicanism as seen through the lens of not only Yeats, but the likes of priests John Dee, John Donne, and George Herbert. Out of this came my musing about Jesus as a Spiritual Alchemist. While I imagine there’s a lot more to come from Active Imagination, I thought I’d start with something familiar like the prayer Jesus taught his followers.

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
As we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.
But rescue us from the evil one. (Matthew 6)

Looking through the glass of a spiritual alchemist, here’s one interpretation of this prayer:

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” This prayer follows the first alchemist’ teaching, “as above, as below;” as it is in heaven, so it is on earth. The alchemist used Jesus as the model for how they would conduct their spiritual work—they called upon God to guide and assist them in the perfecting of their soul. For the alchemist, this was a four-step cycle, which was continually repeated throughout life. That four-step process can be found in the next line of the prayer; a metaphor from daily life that Jesus often used.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” Our bread, our sustenance, comes from the four elements: the “earth” where the seed is enwombed, the “air” from which the warm sun shines and where the heavenly clouds gathers, from which the rain “water” falls, and the “fire” of lightening from which the elements of the wheat and the water are united to make the bread. Alchemy is a mirror of the natural processes of life; nothing more, nothing less, and always as obscure.

The first step, Nigredo (symbolized by the Raven), the phase of chaos and darkness; the moment when our hopes and dreams are placed in the womb; always with the risk of not knowing the outcome. The second step, is Albedo (the Swan), the light shines on the seed and germination begins; maybe the heat will be just right, or too little, or too much The third step, is Citrinitas (the Peacock), the seed cracks through the soil and new life emerges; but maybe the seedling will burn up, or wither, or be eaten, or hopefully survive. And finally, Rubedo (the Phoenix), the wheat is harvested in use to make bread and feed the hungry. Think of Jesus’ teaching about the seed cast about the farmer, or the parable of the tares, or his words that the wheat must die and how they apply to our daily lives. The alchemist used all these same metaphors to describe their soul work; some probably before Jesus.

The purpose of the alchemist’s work is found in the next line of Jesus’ prayer. “And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” Alchemy is done for the sake of healing, first of our Self, and then others. To do so, alchemists must see the Christ in themselves, as well as everyone else, and everything. God is Present in all creation. God is Present in each of the four elements, as well as the one who harvests the wheat, bakes the bread, eats the bread, shares the bread, and receives the bread. The cycle is incomplete without each step and the alchemist’s work is never finished until each step has gone through its full course. Forgive us, because you have seen Your Self in us, and we have seen you in others—from forgiveness all healing can be manifest.

The final line of Jesus’ prayer can be tricky to interpret. “And do not bring us to the time of trial. But rescue us from the evil one.” Jesus said that if you sweep and clean your house of one demon, seven more will return. (Luke 11) In other words, instead of cleaning our house of our one demon, we need to make friends with it. In Carl Jung’s alchemical terms, our demon is our shadow and we need to embrace it. Our shadow can be frightening, but it also can be the one who brings healing. Jesus said that you will know him (the Christ) when he would be lifted up as Moses lifted up the serpent. (John 3:14) Paradoxically, the one who poisons is also the one who heals. Hence, the medical symbol of the caduceus. The time of trial is to deny that we contain both light and shadow. Our work, then, is not to rid ourselves of our shadow, but instead to work with our shadow as a form of healing our Self (two sides of the serpent). The alchemist strove to embrace the shadow by living a non-dualistic life; they worked to unite the opposites of light and shadow (both sides of the serpent), both internally and externally. They would make friends with their shadow by inviting it to sit in their circle of counsel. They would say to their shadow on daily basis, “today you will be with me in paradise.” The alchemist work was to comfort the shadow, quiet it down, and with God’s help, the shadow would become the alchemist’s ally and no longer an enemy (both sides of the serpent).

Not unlike the alchemist, Jesus’ teachings were hidden in secret metaphors; even the prayers he taught his followers. And the alchemist’s, not unlike Jesus disciples, spent their lives trying to unpack those mysteries. Guess that means I have plenty of grist for the alchemical bread I’m baking.

Science and the Mystics

The Feedback Loop of the Mystic by John Brighton
A Book review for SpeakEasy

“The Feedback Loop of the Mystic” is John Brighton’s valiant attempt to bring a contemporary neuroscience interpretation to George Gurjdieff’s esoteric philosophy. Brighton’s effort stems from his desire to give scientific language for his own paranormal experiences. He is obviously brilliant and erudite. This book is extra-ordinarily well researched, which it would need be for Brighton to achieve his courageous goal of a near impossible project.

Brighton is candid about his personal paranormal experiences as he explains in the memoir-like opening chapters. He is also upfront about his years of being a student in the Fourth Way—a system of self-development envisioned by Gurjdieff and his earliest students. Brighton’s goals for writing this book seem three-fold: 1) to bring neuroscience to Gurdjieff’s holographic worldview of the enneagram (to read this book you need to dismiss all you know about the enneagram as a personality typing tool); 2) provide a path to higher consciousness; and 3) create a modality for healing through the mind’s energy waves. My attempt at streamlining Brighton’s work is itself, meager.

“The Feedback Loop” could serve as an Encyclopedia on neuroscience and esoteric psychology. Brighton often reads like the labyrinth-like tales of Gurdjieff himself. Something which almost every student of Gurdjieff seems to fall prey, including his primary disciple Peter Ouspensky, as well the more contemporary Cynthia Bourgeault in “The Holy Trinity and the Law of Three.”

The three points I have taken away from reading Brighton’s book, are:

1) G.I. Gurdjieff “lost science” was pure anamnesis—remembering what he could not have known. Such gives brilliance to Gurdjieff’s work.
2) The convergence of mystical traditions can bring true healing energy to this broken world.
3) Our brain intertwined with the Cosmic Presence is powerful beyond imagination.

Fair warning, Brighton assumes you have some knowledge of Gurdjieff. If you’re interested, I would recommend A.G.E Blake’s “The Intelligent Enneagram.” Brighton also assumes you can remember an exceptionally large number of acronyms, without a complete index. His self-published book also evidenced a lack of professional editing. And a personal pet peeve of mine is his not using source quotes, especially Carl Jung, and an overuse of Wikipedia. Those two concerns raise a personal suspicion about some of the other sources he references.

Brighton deserves tremendous credit for writing this book and I’m glad I read it, though I would be cautious about to whom I might recommend it.

Remembering Michael O’Grady

Monsignor Michael O’Grady, beloved priest, spiritual guide, friend and mentor passed away last week. He died peacefully in his sleep in his “little house,” in Kildysart, Ireland. This was the exact place he told so many of us where he would choose to die; and he did, in the same bed as his mother passed years ago.

I met Fr Mike in 1996, when our mutual friend Marlene introduced us. My soul was in desperate need of weeding and Marlene knew the perfect person to guide the gardening. The first time we met, I wept, he listened quietly. After thirty minutes of silence he took down a copy of the 103 Psalm. He prayed it and then suggested I pray it everyday. I saw him once a week for a season, and then nearly once a month ever since.

That same year, Fr Mike would bless Cathy and my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Then he blessed our family’s first trip to Ireland in 1998. He gave me a few “Punts” to get us started. I still have them. Those coins carry Ireland’s Harp and well represent Mike’s blessed lyrical voice and soul.

Mike personally introduced me to John O’Donohue when the poet was doing a poetry reading in Phoenix just after the American publication of his book “Anam Cara.” Then years later, Mike, Cathy, and I would visit O’Donohue’s grave in the Canamara. We all remembered our favorite verses, Mike’s from memory.

While in Ireland, Mike would make dinner for us in his home and then the next morning celebrate the Mass at his kitchen table. He introduced us to what he said were the “real Ireland, the people.” They generously shared their stories and their Jameson, we drank deep from both. This morning, I see the faces of those people, his friends, his mentors, those he cared for—he is now with them in what the Irish call the thin place. Those spaces and places where the souls of dead and the living mingle. These places and spaces are everywhere if we are still enough to imagine them.

For twenty-three years, Fr Mike listened to my soul pour out my life before him; raw and unfiltered. He never judged, rarely offered advice, usually told me a story, and always, always, listened deeply. He walked me through the transition from baseball coach to college president. He held my grief and anger during the dark days that followed my exit from that university. He encouraged me through the process of becoming an Episcopal priest. We cried together when our mothers died. And we laughed together with joy when the holy grand boys came into this world.

I saw him just a bit before coming to Ireland, we both had a few tears in our eyes. We said goodbye, hugged and he said the same thing to me he always said in departing. “As Anne would be saying, say your prayers, and do your little bit. And be good to Gil.”

Two nights after Mike slipped away, he came to me in a dream. He placed his left hand on my head, blessed me, and disappeared. Now we walk together in a new way. I would imagine he has appeared to many of you.

For all of those countless people that can tell a similar story about their relationship with Fr Mike, and there are countless numbers of you; I would be imagining that we all will remember his gentle stories, his wisdom, his laughter, and his love. Mostly his love. Please remember, “Wherever you go, there you’ll be,” and Mike will still be with you.

Gaelic Camino

Morning, Day Four: Law of Three to make Seven.
Sun blistered wind,
Quarter way to summit War’s Hill;
Muscles burning, stumbling over the stones I placed on the trail;
Shoulders bending under my own burdens packed;
Chest gasping for cooler air than my own stale exhaust;
Eyes begging for level ground
I would not let be found.

Unaware, I fail to recognize demons as allies,
Mistaking them for ghosts of my ancient failures—
Pressing backward, running from my self.

Who is that hiding behind Crone’s Tree,
The shadow I?
Certainty feigned,
Defense sung sharp,
Pride denied.

Who is hiding under Quartz Stone,
My well formed gods?
Irascible commitment,
Transactional relationships,
Veiled love.

Who is that hiding between Raven’s Wings,
Trembling me, aching to flee?
Avoiding history’s trauma,
Denying pain,
Escaping Reality.

Though Demons despised,
Their haunting familiarity lingers as mystic clouds
Whispering wind wisdom through the Rowans, saying:
“Companionship we shadow demons offer.”
Their voices fetching me to risk
What the I of me
Fears to lose:
A crammed rucksack of masks...

Much lighter now,
Hand in hand,
My demons and I,
Lean into what we lovers are becoming—
What always was already;
The True Self of Us being one intimate soul.

The Grey Blue Ocean Melted Into the Horizon

The sculpted green coastline of western Ireland acts as a chalice rim for the grey blue ocean that has melted into the horizon of soft clouds. A gentle sea cooled breeze calmly refreshes the morning grasses. Two mares, one roan, the other speckled grey, nurse their colts as the seagulls awaken to fish for breakfast. The village is quiet, the work has not yet begun for those who will labor this day. And I am at peace with myself and in love with the one whom I share the bed in which she sleeps. If life where to end in this moment, with this vision of Mother Earth in my soul, I could know that, indeed, all is well and I will rest at ease for all eternity.

Strandhill is just a few minutes up the coast from Sligo, home of all things WB Yeats. This sacred ground has been the home to the those who most likely migrated from France more than 6,000 years ago. The remains of those ancient peoples still rest in mounds of earth and stone tombs giving testament to their astronomical genius. They built their monuments and stone circles over 3400 years before the Christians adjusted their calendar to match the mystical magistery of those who knew the divine intimately in all of creation. Here, atop the flat topped mountain Knockarea, Queen Maeve is buried standing in her armor, still protecting and providing spiritual guidance for all who walk in her realm.

To ensure such spiritual energy has eternal grace across all of Ireland, the Queen’s tomb, built 500 years before the more well known burial tomb of Newgrange, lies on the same meridian as the tombs of Howth and Tara (all a part of the Newgrange Triangle). These ancient tombs were built within concentric circles connected in triangles across the isle. Their builders understood the power of astronomy, mathematics and philosophy thousands of years before Pythagoras and Hermès Trismegistus penned their wisdom. Reality is knowledge and has always been magus for those who have ears to hear and eyes to see.

Here, in this isolated place, in this tiny village on the northwestern coast of Ireland, modern man has learned to walk lightly on the earth. The Irish do not feel ownership of this land, but instead, the responsibility of the stewardship of the gift they have inherited. These people are like the young colts lying in the pasture below; resting peacefully, mother nearby. The giver of life who needs the verdant countryside in order to nourish her baby. These two colts are the microcosm of the microcosm that cares for them—all a significant part of the Great One. No matter how small, the weak colts need the Mother One as much as the One needs them to continue to bring life to the field through their unbridled love.

The ravens overhead are reminding me that pilgrimage is in the present moment, for there is none other. The past’s currency is in the anamnesis, memory that transmutes. For I am changed by the present, knowing that such existence is all there is, all there will be. I too, as a weak colt, will gather up my strength and begin another walk of the Wicklow with fellow pilgrims. Living fully in the present, breathing in the mystery, the magic, and the knowledge that the Great One will share with us along the Way—I will live as if I have been buried alongside Queen Maeve; committed to the spiritual guidance of those who walk in the energy of the now.

No Need to Worship Jesus

I just finished reading Richard Rohr’s latest book, “The Universal Christ,” as well listening to his accompanying series of twelve podcasts. My take away was the same I had with his previous book, “Immortal Diamond.” In both books, Rohr wrote, “Jesus said follow me. He never said worship me.” In case the reader missed the line, Rohr punctuated it more than once in his podcast.

Rohr’s point is clear—it is much easier to worship Jesus than practice his teachings. One can praise Jesus while only giving a pious head nod to his difficult teachings. For evidence, Rohr simply points to the history of Christianity’s failures of practicing what Jesus taught. And his critique of the current state of Christianity is scathing. Those who are screaming the loudest about Christian dogma seem to be the ones building the highest walls preventing other people from having access to the One Holy Living God.

Let’s just take the simplest of Jesus’ admonitions and ask ourselves how well Christianity is practicing what he taught. Be your own judge. No need for me to overstate the obvious.

• Love God.
• Love your neighbor as yourself.
• Love your enemy.
• Feed the hungry.
• Give water to the thirsty.
• Give clothes to the naked.
• Visit the sick.
• Visit those in prison.
• Embrace the stranger in your land.

Seems to me that Christianity got off the path of Jesus’ Way when it changed its archetypal symbol from the “fish” to the “cross.” Jesus’ teachings are primarily about loving and feeding the starving body and soul, not crucifying them. Jesus’ only mention of worship is directed toward YHWH, the One who is the Lover and Provider for body and soul.

Rohr repeatedly tells us that Jesus’ purpose was not to change God’s mind about humanity, but however, to change humanity’s mind about God. In other words, Jesus was not sent to the earth by God to die on the cross for our individual sins. Jesus, instead, is one who realized the “Christ within.” Through his enlightenment and example, Jesus teaches his followers the way to God, the One who is the Reality of Love.

To change the modern Christian’s understanding of God, Rohr takes on the primal theory of salvation; that Jesus died for our sins so that we might be saved (the theory of blood atonement). Using Jesus’ words, Rohr provides another theory, one that feels more like the One Jesus called Love. Jesus said God is Love and God’s unconditional Love requires no reciprocal transaction on God’s part or ours. Rohr writes, “We are all saved in spite of our mistakes and in spite of ourselves. We are all caught up in the cosmic sweep of Divine grace and mercy.”

While Rohr wouldn’t go as far in print to say as much, I would point to Marcus Borg and his writings about Jesus and his primary purpose. Borg writes that Jesus’ mission was to reveal God’s true nature as Love not retribution. And that Jesus practiced what he taught by being a healer, a miracle worker, a mystic, and a revolutionary; more than enough, but no more. Jesus called himself the “son of man,” and us co-equals as the children of God. All of humanity and all of creation, are abiding in God’s unconditional Love as children of the One. As Jesus was a Christ, so we too are called to be a Christ; and we do so by being a people who practice the teachings of Jesus.

The secret is this: the true practice of following Jesus’ teaching happens outside the corporate Church.

Psychedelic Christianity

I write book reviews for The Speakeasy. The only compensation one gets is to keep copies of the books. My selections for review are based on the same questions I use to purchase books: do I know the author; is the title intriguing; am I interested in the topic; and are the first five pages compelling?

Not having previously read anything by Jack Call, who is the author of "Psychedelic Christianity: On the Ultimate Goal of Living," I had to rely on the later three reference points to make my decision. I love the title and the possibility the topic presents. Admittedly, his first five pages were a bit pedantic. Now having read the complete essay (the book is only 69 pages in length), it’s unclear that the content lived up to the expectation created by the title. Given that lack of satisfaction, the brief time it took to read the book was worth the questions it posed.

For all the potential of the book’s title, Jack Call may have simply stuck the word psychedelic and Christian together without merging the ideas. “My two guiding stars are psychedelic experience and Christianity. Neither one shines brighter than the other…” He says that “A psychedelic Christian is just a Christian who acknowledges that psychedelic experience is a way of learning how to be in the right relationship with God,” a concept of which his explanation is too vague. “Having a right relationship with God” is often a trite phrase. To expect the reader to assume they know what the writer intends is a costly mistake. Nothing should be left to my imagination; I can fill in the blanks in ways the author may not have intended. In the case of this book, Call fails at sharing with us how his two guiding stars would inform each other, and thus, the reader.

He describes his psychedelic experiences as “a way that can’t be put into words.” That may be good enough for him, but not for us. How are we to imagine our own spirituality being shaped by psychedelics if he can’t lead us through his experience? He’s almost teasing us, saying that his psychedelic event was so profound that he came to understand “the ultimate goal,” which becomes the central purpose of his Christianity. The whole point of writing a book is to share your experience with the reader.

He is, though, very willing to present his perspective of a Christian philosophy. His “ultimate goal” is “when God will be all in all, and all things will be restored to an original state of glory.” He tells us this will be achieved when “everyone freely chooses to do God’s will.” Something he admits will never happen, because his philosophy underscores free will; God’s and the individual person’s. “God is in control of the things he chooses to control, I am in control of the things he chooses to allow me to me to control, and I choose just as he would choose if he were in control, and likewise for everyone else.” Call wants to use traditional Christian theological language, but his premise and his terms lead to some confusing conclusions; like the one I just quoted. Sometimes unique concepts need new terms in order to give us clear pictures. Even without the psychedelic component, however, his path, at times, winds through a haze filled maze—often leaving his epistemology incongruent.

Jack Call defines himself as a Protestant Christian. He tells us, because of that, he is led to think that “each of us is entitled to say what he or she thinks is the true message of Christianity.” He believes Jesus obtained universal salvation for everyone by achieving the ultimate goal. “That is why I believe that if anyone (Jesus) has really attained the ultimate goal, then everyone has.” But that is not enough. Then he tells us that once the ultimate goal is achieved, a new goal will be revealed. This is because “I want to be able to change without the change ever being that I no longer exist. I want the change to be enjoyable…morally and emotionally satisfying, and sensually and intellectually beautiful.” The author, therefore, does not want to personally have to experience any painful process to achieve transformation. Though he never says so, I assume this is because Jesus already went through the human process.

I also assume that because Jesus went through the human course, we are excused from such? The author writes, “I think it is wrong to speak in terms of ‘transcending the ego.’” That, he says, would make us appear to be superior beings. I don’t agree. That would make us mature human beings. I think he missed the point of the process of integrated maturation. Something many believe Jesus was pointing the way toward, not excusing us from. Richard Rohr, for one, in his latest book, The Universal Christ, makes this point about the Christ very clear.

Jack Call says he wants to be in relationship with God, but doesn’t see God present in humanity, or nature; meaning his spiritual relationship is exclusively with God. Which evidently, is the premise that leads him to declare he is a dualist; he and God are not one and never will be.

He says he follows the historic teaching of Jesus regarding morality and ethics, however, he never connects Jesus with the Christ. Were he to explore the possibilities of the Cosmic Christ, I would imagine he might have come to another conclusion. Oddly enough, Call only references one theologian—Rudolf Bultmann and his 1958 book, Jesus Christ and Mythology; a book I would recommend. Yet still, Call might have been well served to explore an endless list of theologians, Christian and otherwise, who might support his point of views, or maybe better yet, enlighten them.

I had high (pun intended) hopes for this book. But, frankly, I was disappointed. The potential for psychedelic Christianity, an altered state of consciousness Christianity, has long existed in its mystic tradition. The use of altered states of consciousness, drug induced and otherwise, have also long been a component of the perennial mystic tradition. Call never addressed any of these rich mystical traditions other than to dismiss them for their goal of unity, or in his words, the annihilation of the individual. Call wisely points out that psychedelics are not for everyone. I would agree. But he offers no other alternatives for an altered state of consciousness, which he promotes, sort of.

I have friends who have entered alter states of consciousness through the use of psychedelics and they have been able to recreate the scenes with some graphic detail. Their drug induced experiences, in many ways, mirror the experiences of my friends who have entered deep spiritual experiences, specifically through deep prayer, meditation, chanting, yoga, speaking in tongues, the Kabbalahic trance, active imagination dialogue with their Ally, extended pilgrimages, and long fasts. The esoteric experiences of my friends have richly informed their spirituality. I think maybe another book could be written on the topic, one that would include the ancient traditions of the mystery, the knowledge, and the magic of “An Awakened Pilgrimage.”

The Rev Dorothy Saucedo

Dorothy Saucedo is a friend, mentor, and colleague. Though she walked through the veil from this life to what awaits her on the other side, I cannot use passed tense. She was, is, and will always be friend, mentor, and colleague. Though I may not see her with my earthly eyes, I will see and hear her with other eyes and ears.

The Reverend Dorothy Saucedo’s and my life became woven together at Saint Augustine’s Episcopal Parish, Tempe, Arizona. Her mystical life intertwined the convergence of the Presence and the human. She was authentically her Self. She did not suffer the pretentious. She spoke truth to power; that Word often frightened the shit out of those who had the power. Marginalized by White culture as a woman of the Dine, she would not be silenced. Though some tried—her Strength made the episcopate cringe and she would not be ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. Jesus wept. The church’s loss. The people suffered. Same old tired story. Nothing within the institution truly changes.

But Dorothy didn’t need to be ordained to be her Self. She is Priest. Her life exudes the Presence and the Real. Dorothy’s experience of the Presence, the divine, the Spirit, was her own; a beautiful mystical marriage of her ancient People’s religious practice and the christian (that is not a typo). She didn’t force either into the structure of the other; they simply co-existed as oneness in the eternal Flow; she is the conduit. Had you not experienced the divine, she would introduce you to the Presence of the Real with a warm smile, gentle laugh, a gracious embrace, a story, her mystical prayers, and sage; lots of smoke, feathers, and a dance with Spirit. To know Dorothy, was to become intimate with divinity.

With such a mystical relationship, though, comes the Reality of Lightness and Darkness; one cannot exist without the other. And Dorothy experienced them both—she knew the Light, she knew suffering; thus, she became the Light her Self. She cared for the marginalized, the disabled, the outcast. She had experienced that grief in her own life and could teach others how to carry such loss with grace—ever the mystical teacher.

Those who know Dorothy will grieve her earthly death in their own way. Tears will be shed. Stories will be told. An exchange of forever transmuted lives will be passed from hand to hand like the bread and wine Deacon Dorothy served with her Holy soul to our hungry hearts. We love you Dorothy and we will miss your power hugs; keep teaching—those who have eyes will see and ears will hear.

What if God Were a Woman

Last week, I was at the Spiritual Director’s International Conference in Seattle. One of the breakout sessions I attended was “Gender, Sexuality, and Spirituality in the Art of Spiritual Direction.” The three-hour workshop was led by five under forty queer folk. The gathering was informative, enlightening, and encouraging. The discussion wandered more than a few times into pondering upon the divine sexuality; the notion of the “Queer God.”

One of the more “enlightened” cis white straight dudes in attendance, suggested that his God was beyond masculine or feminine, his God was, he said with ethereal emphasis, “Being.” I get it, intellectually, that is—God is not, not; God is nothing. Yes, I understand. But I don’t think my body gets it.

“What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on a bus?” Joan Osborne style.

Right now, one of you, a Christian, is saying, “God is one of us; that would be Jesus Christ.” Okay, well, I’ll restate my premise. What if God was really one of us? Not someone who has become the European white, male, beautiful, perfect, celibate, American, picture hanging on your Sunday School wall, Jesus. Not that one of us. But a real one of us. The one of us Jesus, was; a Jewish Galilean, poor man of color, born of a woman, a woman without a husband, and who died alone, like the rest of us, one of us. That’s good, but—that Jesus still leaves God a man. Better yet then, what if God were a woman, one of us? Even better, a queer woman. I do wonder?

What if Jesus had been born Sophia? I wonder? I wonder where we would be, today? I wonder if the followers of Sophia would have allowed the empire of Rome to co-opt their religion? Would the Roman Catholic Church be reeling from horrors of child abuse? Would America already have instituted reasonable gun control like New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern immediately promised her people after Friday’s tragic mass shooting? Would there even be rampant mass shootings? Would the Episcopal Church be breaking its arm patting itself on the back by electing twenty-five percent of its bishops, women—for the first time? I do wonder?

For those of us who are less enlightened—Sophia is Divinity. She is a central figure in the holy texts; she has many names and she has spoken her truth to us. She is the co-creator. “Before the beginning of the earth…I was there when Yahweh drew a circle on the face of the deep.” (Proverbs 8:23, 27). She is the teacher. “Now my children, listen to me; happy are those who keep my ways.” (Proverbs 8:32) She is the great high priestess. “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” (Proverbs 9:5) She is the revolutionary. “The Divine has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; the Divine has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:52-53). She is the Queen. “A woman clothed in the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.” (Revelation 12:1) She is worthy of praise and worship. “Nothing you desire can compare with Her…She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of Her.” (Proverbs 3:15, 18) Sophia is the beloved Mother of God, the beloved Daughter of God, the beloved Bride of God. I do wonder, what if we turned our eyes to Her? My body feels like we would better off, today. No need to wonder about that; I’m pretty certain.

Cheese Wiz

My grandsons call me Giz, it was my nickname during those long-ago baseball playing days. The grandboys like it because the name differentiates me from the other two grandpas in their life. Lately, the youngest one, who is four, has taken to calling me Gizzie. He’s cute and funny. He could call me anything and it’d make me laugh.

A few weeks ago, Gaga, yep that’s what they call their grandmother, the two boys and I were playing Mouse Trap. The name pretty well describes the game; involves building a mouse trap, to catch the mouse, and using cheese. The boys are seven and four, so we were playing a very modified version of the game. As the game digressed, we resorted to making up rhyming names for cheese. As you might know, seven and four-year-old boys will laugh at about anything. At one point, I mentioned Cheese Wiz, and then the youngest called me “Gizzie, the cheese wizzie.” Good lord, they burst out in that pure child laughter from the gut that is unforgettable and undeniably fun. I laughed so hard at their new name for me, I almost peed my pants.

I’ve had a variety of nickname’s or titles in my life. Coach, Skip (which is a variant of coach), Dr. Stafford, and Father Gil. I never cared much for any of them. The last one I detested, primarily because I knew most people who used the moniker were throwing their daddy issues on me, or worse, their projections of God. Over my fifteen years as an active Episcopal priest, I implored people to just call me Gil. Which set me up to really suspect those who wouldn’t, as having serious unconscious projections. Of course, I really wondered even more about those priests or other leaders who insist on being called by their special title, earned or otherwise. What kind of unconscious insecurity issues are they caring around? Not that I don’t have plenty of my own issues, I just don’t want them attached to my name.

So please, just Gil, or Giz, or Gizzie, the cheese wizzie.

Did you give up Lent for Lent?

"Stations of the Cosmic Christ"
By Matthew Fox and Marc Andrus
Artists M.C. Richards and Ullrrich Javier Lemus

Richard Rohr, Marianne Williamson, and Caroline Myss each wrote a glowing advance for this book. The fact that these three divergent authors would converge to support Matthew Fox’s latest book speaks volumes about the genuine uniqueness of ideas and art found within the covers of this beautiful book. And then throw in Episcopal Bishop Marc Andrus and you have a theological explosion of color and imagination.

Fox and Andrus bring to us the perfect example of how Interfaith conversations intersect best within the context of spiritual mysticism, science, and art. And the artists, M.C. Richards and Ullrrich Javier Lemus are magical. “God is the eye…God is the dragon…God is exciting.”

“Stations of the Cosmic Christ” also offers some spiritual practices for your spiritual pilgrimage. Some you may be familiar with—others not so much. But even if you’ve tried them all—I imagine you might have a different experience when used in conjunction with the meditions and art in this book.

If you’re into Lent, this is the book your church probably won’t want you to read; but it’s the book you want to. For those of you who still practice Lent, “Stations” will shine a new light on your spiritual practices. And if you gave up Lent for Lent, the “Cosmic Christ” may be your portal into the ancient/future mysticism of hidden arcana. I love this little piece of art.

What would happen if Frida Kahlo was Mary Magdalene

What would happen if literary apocalypticism collided with surrealist art? The answer would be, “The Book of Revelation” translated by Michael Straus and illustrated by Jennifer May Reiland. These two might be the twenty-first century’s equivalent of William Blake and Frida Kahlo.

While I have read the Book of Revelation, also known at the Revelation to John, several times, admittedly, I have never read it in one reading. Now I have, thanks to this magnificent piece of art produced by Straus and Reiland.

These two met at an open studios event in New York, where Reiland’s “Self Portrait of Mary Magdalene Having a Vision of the Apocalypse” was on display. Straus was inspired and approached her about collaborating on a new translation of the Revelation. She was very enthusiastic, and the project took off.

Straus has successfully maintained the mystical poetic rhythm of the original language, while bringing the first writer’s vision into the modern era. We hear the phrases we expect from the original author, but then are surprised by words and phrases in Greek, Hebrew, Latin, French, and Spanish. The use of non-English words is included at the perfect moment, which add to the mysticism of the text. Straus gives depth to the prose with the accompaniment of musical stanzas, complete with Hallelujahs and Amens.

Reiland transports the first-century Apocalypse of the Four Horsemen, wild beasts, the whore of Babylon, and the Antichrist right into New York City’s collapse of the Twin Towers, Isis beheadings, and graphic eroticism. Her epic drawings are unexpectedly detailed, granting the full sweep of history’s timelessness—giving the beholder a gut punching view of modernity’s apocalypse. Reiland’s art does well to deliver the unconscious visions and dreams of the Revelation to John.

This book is beautiful little secret well worth the time and a few dollars to uncover. It definitely has enriched my reading and more importantly, my experience, of the Revelation. Fair warning to the reader, beware if you’re offend by graphic erotic art.

Tatto Trance

The rhythmic sound of an electric toothbrush is followed by the pound of a needle. Then comes the wipe of a cooling towel and a soothing bit of Vaseline. Sound, pound, wipe, lubricant. Sound, pound, wipe, lubricant. 1,2,3,4—1,2,3,4—1,2,3,4—1,2….The sky is misty grey and the hills are twenty-one shades of lush green. The uphill trail is soggy from days of rain; scattered with white quartz from pea to egg size and various stages of sheep dung. I’m alone—but I’m not. I can hear my boots, but not hers. A gentle hand brushes down my sleeve. I put my hand back, but she didn’t take it.

“Can you answer me a question?”

“What’d you say?” Cat said.
“Sorry,” I said.
“You okay?”
“Ahh. yea. I’m fine. Just kinda somewhere else.”
“You need a break?”
“Naw. I’m good.”
“Okay. Let me know when you need me to stop for a bit.”

The rhythm of Cat’s tattooing resumed.

As I passed the Medicare threshold, my wife paid for adding some new body art to my collection. I wasted no time making an appointment. When I had opened the door to the small tattoo shop in old town Scottsdale, the distinct smell of a desert antiseptic—sage brush meets rain—took me back to the hours I had already spent there. Cat, the tattoo artist, turned to look at me. Her name does her justice. She stood frozen in place, squinting, as the outside halo of sunlight rained into the room. The door closed behind me and I stepped into the Light of the New Moon. Cat’s surreal mystical art that hangs on the walls, drummed psychic energy into the space. She seemed to be one with her art and studio and I feel privileged to be one of her many living canvasses. She’s the artist who has given design to my vision and ink to every tattoo on my body.

“Oh. Good to see you,” she said. “Come around here and take a look at what I have for you.”

She handed me her large IPad. On it was a completed drawing of the draft she had shown me via text a few weeks ago. This image would add to the work we had begun together several years ago. The new tattoo would fill the right side of my back; a female blue winged alchemist floats with priestly arms outstretched in prayer. She is the alchemist, the anima mundi, who is creating her philosopher’s stone of magic. The tattoo would eventually be completed over two sessions and seven hours. The image on the opposite side of my back had taken three sessions totaling eleven hours; a raven with a peacock tail rising from the gatekeeper’s cauldron. The mystical bird is flying above the sun toward the moon. The artwork on my arms and chest augment my mythic pilgrimage and have taken nearly fifteen hours of work. These tattoos, and whatever will follow, are a pictorial explanation of my personal myth; the mystical work of an alchemist.

I started my tattoo skin journal after walking across Ireland. A reoccurring dream, a vision, and a talking raven began the continual dialogue with my ally who lives in the psychoidal world. This is the world of a visionary experience, the luminous state of mind where Carl Jung wrote “The Red Book.” Jung’s two-year calligraphy and mandala journal of creative imagination is the external expression of his interior soul work. The tattoos you see had already been etched on the soul of Life’s Alchemist.

The rhythm of Cat’s artistry and the constant pounding of the needle create a soul opening for me to slide into another level of consciousness. A mental, physical, and psychic state that replicates walking the pilgrim’s trail while fasting. The exhaustion and hunger create a crack in the egg of this world’s reality, creating a labyrinth which leads to where the unseen becomes visible.

“I can feel you behind me. Why won’t you take my hand?”

Not expecting an answer, I tightened the straps on my pack, relieving some of the stress on my aching shoulders. A turn in the trail took me from the open fields and up into an ancient forest of giant mountain ash. The leaves glistened with an Irish mist, while the intertwined limbs eclipsed the sun. The breeze sang like a spectral choir. In some recent past, the heavy rains had so softened the ground that high winds toppled a few of the giant trees, exposing a root base higher than the roof of a house. The bog blackened roots stood as tombstones to another Aeon. The darkness breathed in and exhaled a purple fog, and I was suspended in timelessness.

“You had a question?” she said.

The gentle confident sound stopped my breathing. I thought I had a question, but her voice infused chaos in my already altered state of mind. I focused what little energy remained on the only sound I had heard for hours. The ancients in the forest sighed waiting for at least some feeble response.

I choked out whispered words, afraid I might hear myself speak. “Have you always been with me?”

The purple cloud thickened with nature’s exhale. Silence held the answer I expected to hear. I kept walking. The trail flattened out and I picked up my pace as a way of distraction for my aching soul. The pregnant air was broken by a laughing raven high above. The Pilgrim walked on while the painting on the wall began to question me. And I foolishly answered back.

I must be the Pilgrim’s Fool. Grail’s cocktail of self-disgust and realization. Or maybe not? I don’t know. Would that make the Christ the Magician? Must be. But Jesus could be the Fool. I think I’ve seen that in a deck somewhere before. No, no. Christ is the Magician. Because that would make a transmigration of Brigid Dubh, the Anam Cara, and the Soror Mystica the High Priestess? Of course. Then Mother Mary, Magdalene, and the other Mary would be the Empress. And the Lover, the Beloved, and the Spirit would be the Emperor. The Empress and the Emperor would be the pair of opposites, two sides of the same coin, the Hermaphrodite. The Pilgrim, the Magician, the Priestess, the Empress are woven into the World of the One. The unified world, the Unus Mundus, everywhere but nowhere. We’re living in it, but we are not. The interior has become the exterior, the unseen—the seen.

“What’s happening to me?”

She said, “Opposites in tension create transmutation; a new reality.”

Cat said. “You okay? You need a break?”
“Oh, I think I’m okay.”
“You got another thirty minutes in ya?”
“Yeah. How long have we been at it?”
“Almost four hours,” she said.

Nasty Angels

John Dee and the Empire of Angels: Enochian Magick and the Occult Roots of the Modern World by Jason Louv

Eight in ten Americans believe that angels exist. Fifty-five percent believe they have a guardian angel. The three major Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all include angels as a significant part of their religious system. Those who buy into angels might equate their ideals to the 1996 film, “Michael” that starred John Travolta. He was an affable and naïve angel who smelled like fresh baked cookies. Few angel fans probably want their guardians to be the opposite of Michael, like the angels who appeared in Kevin Smith’s 1999 film “Dogma.” His angels were engaged in an apocalyptic, though humorous, battle. Historically, the angels of our major religions have a tendency to favor the later.

“Every generation gets its own apocalypse.” Jason Louv’s John Dee and the Empire of Angels: Enochian Magick and the Occult Roots of the Modern World portrays a realm of angels who are intent on driving human history toward the great apocalypse found in The Revelation of John. Louv’s ouroboros view of human history demands we take the alchemical “black pilgrimage” in hopes to experience the divine gold; the eternal elixir that resides deep within us all. “The true Revelation is that we have never left the Garden at all…we’ve just head tripped ourselves into thinking we have. Revelation means the lifting of the veil—the veil of our own mind that obscures Eden.” Louv’s Eden is the experience of enlightenment, the liberated mind, seeing God “face-to-face,” a state of consciousness humanity has known from the beginning but been taught otherwise by those same religions that think angels smell like fresh baked cookies.

The controversial, but often forgotten figure of John Dee (1527-1608) is the central character in Louv’s historical drama. Dee most likely paved the wave for the emerging scientific mind to evolve in 16th century England. At one time, his personal library exceeded that of the collected volumes of all the royalty, the monasteries, and the universities in the country. Depending on whose history you read, John Dee was either a spiritually wise sage or a genius madman—or both. Such the reasons that Queen Elizabeth I, kept Dee close to her left hand while pushing him with her right. His political and military acumen could be brilliant at times and disastrously miscalculated at others. Dee’s mystical spirituality and alchemical knowledge were to be equally coveted and feared. So convoluted was Dee’s life that historians have done their best to either downgrade his importance or deny his role in global history. Louv, however, provides a disparate interpretation of Dee’s legacy; that of master communicator with angels and an apocalyptic provocateur.

John Dee and the Empire of Angels is appropriately divided into the three sections, which Louv calls “Books”: The Magus, The Angelic Conversations, and the Antichrist. The title of each book is a foretelling. The Magus is a well written biography of Dee. The second book is an excruciatingly detailed journal of Dee’s encounters with angels. And book three exposes the results of the wizard’s work; a connection to the twenty-first century most readers would never imagine.

In Book One, The Magus, Louv does his best to provide the background necessary to decipher Dee’s (and the medieval Renaissance) theology of biblical Hermeticism. Not a philosophy most twenty-first century American Christians might find themselves comfortable in recognizing as their roots, particularly Evangelical Christians. Dee, educated and trained by the best Catholic minds, was unwillingly drafted into the dangers of Reformation’s murky milieu. Between the Inquisition’s torture rack and witch burnings, the theological storms were brewing perpetual destruction.

In Book Two, The Angelic Conversations, Louv takes us deep into Dee’s mental and spiritual world; the Christian of the twenty-first century should be forewarned—this glimpse is not for the religiously naïve. Through personal journals, Louv provides with us the minutia of details that allows Dee to encounter the realm of angels, their language, and their irascible nature. One should never forget that the God of Genesis created both the “Tree of Life” and the “Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” and both are on glorious and painful display in this story. Dee’s narrative is the child born of the mystical marriage of the dark and light of both the Old and New Testament.

In Book Three, Antichrist, Louv reveals the antichrist’s identity. Don’t think of one individual as the antichrist. Louv takes us through the modern occult world of Aleister Crowley, Jack Parsons, and L. Ron Hubbard to just name a few of the characters. Louv brings the story to a most timely and pertinent conclusion.

My best recommendation for John Dee and the Empire of Angels: Enochian Magick and the Occult Roots of the Modern World is to read the final chapter before starting through Louv’s labyrinthine work. Unless you have deep interest in John Dee, communicating with angels (Enochian Magic), alchemy, and the esoteric arts you might not make it through the introduction. Without the readers keen curiosity on the topics he presents, Louv provides only obscure hints and eclipsed clues that might not be enough to move the reader through the first forty-two pages. For the uninitiated, reading the final chapter first, “The Last Jerusalem,” will be more than enough motivation to hang on for the magical ride.

Jason Louv’s book is written with the precision of a journalist, the detail research of a historian, and the spiritual experience of well-traveled pilgrim. While I have studied the topics Louv covered I was not disappointed with the time I invested in this book; in fact, I learned a great deal. This is a beautiful book filled with lovely and important art. Inner Traditions did a wonderful publishing this book.

But the best thing about John Dee and the Empire of Angels is that I imagine both ends of the spiritual spectrum might hate it; most Christians will be shocked and confused while New Age magicians will be disgusted that their roots are so intertwined with the Christian story. Have fun.