A bad news that might be the good news
While spending some time in LA I was asked by someone what the goal of my work was. Or rather, what I was wanting to offer people through the collectives I was helping to establish. This is a question that I have been reflecting on a lot recently.
Some of these reflections have been fed by Freud’s potent comment that he sought to transform human misery into general unhappiness. This goal can seem quite depressing at first glance. However I think that there is also something profoundly powerful nestled in this modest aim. Freud never offered people the usual snake oil. He never claimed that if we just follow a certain dogma, engage in a prescribed set of practices, buy a particular product etc. we would banish depression and find happiness and fulfilment. Rather he merely held out the possibility that we might be able to face up to life in all of its beauty and horror. Embracing it by saying “yes” when it would be so easy to say “no”. He helped people face up to their trauma’s and bear their weight. Indeed he pointed to ways in which we might be able to turn them to our own benefit.
Occasionally churches offer potential converts a life of fulfilment and happiness in exchange for answering an altar call and engaging in some spiritual practices. And indeed often ecstasy of some kind accompanies the initial response to an altar call. An ecstasy however that tends to dissipate quickly, leaving the new convert to attempt ever more bizarre practices to return to the initial high.
In the collectives that I am part of such promises are avoided. Rather the good news comes down to offering people the possibility of facing up to their suffering and darkness and sharing them with others in some (often ritualistic) way. The good news is found in offering those present the space to face their anxieties (rather than repressing them or falling into dispair) and develop the courage to embrace them. This of course is not something that brings in the masses. Stadiums are more often filled by smiling men in good suits offering a lot more (in exchange for a little cash).
This is a subject that I shall be exploring more in the coming years. But for now I will leave you with this parable from The Orthodox Heretic which hints at what I think the good news might look like (click here for another parables, not my own, which also touches on this issue).
There was once an old man named Benoni who had known great misfortune through life, having lost his wife and children to poverty, disease, and war. The many lines on his face betrayed his pain, and his heart was filled with sorrow and regret. Indeed he barely had the strength to carry on.
But there was one who had drawn alongside him in his sorrow. His comforter was the village blacksmith, a strong but caring man who exhibited a gentle, humble, and charitable way of life. People knew very little about this blacksmith, as he was a quiet man who had moved into the town only a few years before. Yet he was well liked by the community and would often be found sitting on the porch of his workshop, enjoying the midday sun and passing the time by engaging strangers in conversation. His face was strong and full of character, betraying both a depth of spirit and a breadth of experience. But it was also a kindly face that was set alight by his compassionate smile.
When Benoni lost his first child, the blacksmith called round to his home, put his hand on Benoni’s shoulder and with great affection said, “I am so sorry that you have suffered this grave misfortune. If you will allow me, I would like to stand with you at this time of hardship.”
Ever since this first encounter the blacksmith had called round to Benoni’s house most evenings, sometimes to sit and chat, sometimes to listen, and sometimes simply to leave food and other provisions. As each new calamity befell Benoni, the blacksmith would be there to speak and cry with.
One day when Benoni was particularly depressed he went to visit a pastor who lived in the heart of the city, so as to talk through what had taken place over the traumatic years and try to make sense of it. The pastor listened to what Benoni had to say and then, after a little thought, replied, “Well my son, in order for great fortune to take place one must first suffer great misfortune. The suffering you have faced is the price that has had to be extracted for strength of character, and a spirit forged in the fires of hell.”
So Benoni returned to his home alone, lit a fire in an attempt to take away the evening’s chill, and contemplated the words of the minister. Perhaps he is right, thought Benoni, maybe I should take some comfort from these words. But it is cold, I am alone, and words can offer no shoulder to rest on.”
Just then the blacksmith knocked on the door and Benoni, as always, welcomed him in. As they sat together they drank whiskey and talked long into the night. That evening Benoni shared the words of the pastor with his friend, adding, “Perhaps now that I have been given these words to comfort me, you no longer need to visit as you have done this last year.”
The blacksmith simply looked at the floor for a few moments and then replied, “My dear friend, if what the elder has said is true then I am needed all the more, for if you had to suffer such great misfortune in order to find strength of character and wealth of spirit, then this is in itself a great misfortune.”
And so they sat late into the night bringing comfort and warmth to each other through the sharing of their lives.
July 18th, 2010 at 1:08 pm
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Peter Rollins, dtrigueros and Agnostic Gnostic, Christopher Klepacz. Christopher Klepacz said: RT @PeterRollins: A bad news that might be the good news (Latest blog post) http://bit.ly/9Sv7pM [...]
July 18th, 2010 at 1:19 pm
Thanks Peter for sharing a more realistic and profound notion that ultimately God is not a magician looking to make us happy. Much like a parent God realizes that we need to mature and maturity comes from responding to life’s challenges.
Our responses can set the tone for a life filled with adventure rather than safety, by saying yes more than no to daily challenges. We are certainly not guaranteed happiness or even peace, but stimulating growth that leads to an ongoing ability to handle what comes with life. Yes the journey of faith can be depressing and discouraging at times, but need not be our overriding default position. Amen.
Cheers, Steve
July 18th, 2010 at 1:22 pm
…great parable, Peter. I look forward to watching creativity grow.
July 18th, 2010 at 1:22 pm
*your* creativity grow
July 18th, 2010 at 3:57 pm
I seem to remember Jesus said that things were going to get worst. That the world does not understand us and even more so, would hate us.
This era, some prominent religious preachers have create the “name it and claim it”. Or as I’ve heard, the “genie in the bottle” gospel. The pains, trials, and hardships of life do happen they are in most cases spiritual attacks or natural causes (or both). This gospel seems to also be related to instant fix and instant spiritual conversion… and life is good. It is like a methodical 4 step program and you’re in …. heaven. After all, heaven is the goal. Not that the kingdom of God is here right now. We can experienced it now, we don’t have to wait til we die. I heard an Hebraic expert once say, “in Jesus’ time, a good Jew rarely thought about what happens after they died. That if asked, they probably would have responded without hesitation, I walk with God now, and I will walk with Him after I die”.
I am not trying to get preachy but I think there are many, many lessons to learned about Paul’s trip to Asia Minor in 2 Cor 1. The apostle Paul talked about the despair he suffered in Asia Minor (2 Cor 1). Paul even said that things were so bad he wanted to die…. Whoa. Talking about having a bad day. Nevertheless, he was able regained focus. He faced death squarely head on and was able to realize: “this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead”.
As humans we tend to lose focus. We get frustrated. We get introspective. We can get depressed. How we handle adversity is key. Are we focused on ourselves or on God? Sounds simple but the truth is, life is not, and being a Christian can be much harder.
Are we for the positive love of Christ and the positive love of our Christ community. Life is not boring. It is an adventure. If it wasn’t challenging and exciting we would become boring and even more introspective…. not good.
July 18th, 2010 at 8:34 pm
This parable is probably my favorite.
July 18th, 2010 at 10:18 pm
I appreciate the post and, particularly the parable. Sometimes when we do not think too deeply about what we proclaim, the good news we offer is not really such good news.
I also appreciate the push for something more than thin advice giving and religious cliches, for a faith that embraces the complexity and real challenges we encounter.
But I also wonder how we might speak of God, not only in our pain, but also in our health, not only in our weakness, but also in our strength and creativity. I am not speaking of a false marketable optimism, but an embrace of the full range of human experience.
I am thinking of Bonhoeffer wanting to get beyond God of the gaps, and church at the perimeter of the city, to church in the center of the city (not a Constantinain church, but an engaged church).
July 18th, 2010 at 10:42 pm
Our spiritual brothers and sisters from the East, and those Christians who appreciate them, have long acknowledged suffering as a core concern to be addressed, rather than something to be actively erased, ignored, or repressed. A great gift of Eastern spiritual practice is encouragement to fully acknowledge the suffering, and recall that this too shall pass (blessed impermanence!). I’ve heard this described as our being in a closet poked through with swords. Each of those swords represents some pain and suffering in my life, and I spend a good deal of time contorting, twisting and writhing in an attempt to stay away from the sharp, blood-letting swordtips. The more I writhe in avoidance, the more I am slashed and poked from every direction. The stabbing pauses only when I simply stop, rest, and be still. In my quietness, then, I simply notice each sword with my perception (my eyes, or in the worst case, the feeling of the blade pressing against my skin but not cutting because I am still). If I am fortunate, I will be able to recall the conditions of “happiness” I *do* have, even while I am in this sword-infested closet: I can breathe, I can hear help coming, my shoes don’t pinch, there’s a light shining through the keyhole, I put on my most comfortable jeans that morning, I managed to eat breakfast so I won’t be hungry for awhile, and so on.
“Help coming” needs to be considered carefully because most often there is no calvary coming to definitively solve our problems. I recall the warm and well-meaning wishes of those who learned I was diagnosed with cancer. God bless them — it was hard to find things to say to me, I know. The most nourishing words came from Christian songwriter Christopher Williams: he said, “be strong.” No sugar, no platitudes, just firm direction that I recalled over and over. And most of all from Cindy Osborne, the wife of an Episcopal priest, who simply said, “This is terrible.” Yes, yes it was. And with her words she spared me the need to gloss over the fear, and she agreed to sit with me in that place. Christopher and Cindy were exactly the help I needed although they couldn’t do a thing about the diagnosis or its treatment.
And now I’m fine.
July 19th, 2010 at 12:04 am
I really think you are a great thinker. And great thinkers have a place of honor in this world, in my quite humble opinion. Please continue to challenge the epic human condition of insecurity and normalcy that asks you to stop being a challenge to the every day normal. Thank you.
Cheers,
July 19th, 2010 at 9:08 pm
“Powerless goodness ends upon the cross. It gives no certainty of victory to comparatively righteous causes in conflict with comparatively unrighteous ones. It can only throw a divine illumination upon the whole meaning of history and convict both the righteous and the unrighteous in their struggles.”
Reinhold Niebuhr
The Power and Weakness of God
1946
July 20th, 2010 at 11:30 am
[...] a recent blog post, Peter Rollins offers some reflections on a version of the ‘what does the emerging church want?’ question. [...]
July 20th, 2010 at 8:27 pm
Do not know which option was better today: Visit your blog and read this interesting text, or watch the new film by Christopher Nolan “Inception”.
I believe that both were excellent!
May the doubts never leave you alone my friend!
August 8th, 2010 at 3:38 am
Perhaps you’re familiar with the following Jewish teaching. A small percentage of us are wholly righteous–Tzadikim–and a small percentage wholly not-righteous, and the rest of us are somewhere in the middle–benoni.
Thanks for being a vessel of holiness.
shalom v’ahava,
Menachem
September 1st, 2010 at 5:16 pm
This approach may not fill stadiums but it does fill the many rooms of countless Twelve Step groups. One of the greatest blessings I have found in those rooms is that I can go there and share anything that I am going through and people will simply listen. Moving from “human misery to general unhappiness” sounds a lot like “progress not perfection” to me.