Have you learn’d lessons only of those who admired you, and were
tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learn’d great lessons from those who reject you,
and brace themselves against you? or who treat you with
contempt, or dispute the passage with you?
Thank you, my love, for having taught me lessons of all kinds.
So my normal Sunday post didn’t really work for me. Here’s a quick replacement. I’ve been mulling over this for a while now. Tillich presents five presuppositions necessary for rejecting both the old and the new orthodoxy as provided, mainly, by Karl Barth.
First, one must say that revelatory experiences are universally human. Religions are based on something that is given to man wherever he lives. He is given a revelation, a particular mind of experience which always implies saving powers. One never can separate revelation and salvation. There are revealing and saving powers in all religions. God has not left himself unwitnessed. This is the first presupposition.
The second assumption states that revelation is received by man in terms of his finite human situation. Man is biologically, psychologically, and sociologically limited. Revelation is received under the conditions of man’s estrange character. It is received always in a distorted form, especially if religion is used as a means to an end and not as an end in itself.
There is a third presupposition that one must accept. When systematic theologians assume the significance of the history of religions, it involves the belief that there are not only particular revelatory experiences throughout human history, but that there is a revelatory process in which the limits of adaptation and the failures of distortion are subjected to criticism. Such criticism takes three forms: the mystical, the prophetic, and the secular.
A fourth assumption is that there may be—and I stress this, there may be—a central event in the history of religions which unites the positive results of those critical developments in the history of religion in and under which revelatory experiences are going on—an event which, therefore, makes possible a concrete theology that has universalistic significance.
There is also a fifth presupposition. The history of religions in its essential nature does not exist alongside the history of culture. The sacred does not lie beside the secular, but it is its depths. The sacred is the creative ground and at the same time a critical judgement of the secular. But the religious can be this only if it is at the same time a judgement on itself, a judgement which must use the secular as a tool of one’s own religious self-criticism.
Only if the theologian is willing to accept these five presuppositions can he seriously and fully affirm the significance of the history of religions for theology against those who reject such significance in the name of a new or of an old absolutism.
On the other hand, he who accepts the significance of this history of religion must stand against the no-God-language theology. He must reject also the exclusive emphasis on the secular or the idea that the sacred has, so to speak, been fully absorbed by the secular.
—The Significance Of The History Of Religions For The Systematic Theologian. Paul Tillich, 1965
We covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.
—First Principle of Unitarian Universalism
Before the Unitarian Universalist[1] was its own coalescing entity, they were separate religious strains (prior to 1961). Of course, it is often wondered what was the main difference then between the Unitarians and the Universalists? As the joke goes, the Universalists believed that God was too good to send anyone to hell, while the Unitarians believed that they were too good to be sent to hell.
As I explore UU a bit more closely, I find that I’m drawn to their seven principles. In dealing with the first principle, I was immediately struck by the word inherent. Inherency is a tricky subject at best, but it is vital to understanding both humanity and the religious notion on an individual and collective level. The short end of what could be a long and difficult argument is that in order for something to be inherent it must be a part of the essential nature of a thing.
Some dismiss essence as a fundamental aspect of humanity. I think there are some pretty good arguments there. But I also think it misses the point. But, in fact, most of the arguments for humanity or for humanism fall flat on their face without at least a subtle acknowledgement in some form of an inner essence or inner self that is from an outer self[2]. But, unlike some, I do not believe this inner self or essence is some kind of buffer against the knowledge (assumption?) of an apathetic universe. It is part and parcel of that universe which makes that universe, at the least, not so apathetic anymore.
I love this quote that I use all the time in relation to freedom, equality, and the human condition (and most especially in relation to politics when Gerald brings out his “All men are created equal” arguments):—
In the same way, when it is asserted that “all men are born equal,” of what “men” are we speaking? The statement is evidently untrue of all “outer men,” for we see that they are both physically and mentally differently endowed and that natural aptitudes have to be considered even in nominally egalitarian societies. A predication of equality is only absolutely true of all inner men; true of the men themselves, but not of their personalities.
—Coomaraswamy, The Bugbear of Democracy, Freedom and Equality, p. 151.
All human liberty is predicated on the equality of the essential nature of human beings. One can beat around the bush all they want about the ephemeral and unverifiable qualities of this nature, but the point remains that without some postulate of an essential nature, we are reduced to mere machines without independent thought or will to action. The reductive properties to the argument of biopsychosocial phenomenon to not properly address the logical conclusions of such an position. In fact, as Quinn points out:—
Without a higher worldview … the modern person has nothing to replace the notion of equality once it is shown to be fallacious. The modern therefore clings to it as an ideal, rationalizing that the overt differences between people are wholly explained by the differences in their early environment, genetic composition, or other such reductions.
—Quinn, The Only Tradition, p. 280.
It is through this higher worldview and the recognition of this essential nature that we find the principle of inherent worth and dignity of each person[3]. Ultimately, Thelema proclaims that “Every man and every woman is a star (AL 1.3).” The principles of inherent dignity have been mistaken for rabid individualism, but nonetheless there is a sense of integral union with the inner self that must manifest in the outer self. Once we recognize the inherent worth and dignity of ourselves we are capable of passing that onward or forward or outward through the recognition of the inherent worth and dignity of others.
One of the reasons I am drawn toward UUism is this particular principle. It resonates with me deeply.
I’ll leave off here with one final UU joke.
Three religious persons are discussing when life begins.
The Catholic said, “Life begins at the moment of conception.”
The Jew said, “Life begins at the moment of birth.”
The Unitarian Universalist said, “Life begins when the last child goes off to college and the dog dies.”
Oh yeah. That’s my kind of religion!
For I am divided for love’s sake, for the chance of union. This is the creation of the world, that the pain of division is as nothing, and the joy of dissolution all. For these fools of men and their woes care not thou at all! They feel little; what is, is balanced by weak joys; but ye are my chosen ones. (AL 1.29-31)
I once believed that I had many of the answers. Not all of them, mind you. Just many of them. They were as obvious as the nose on my face. As knowledge gives way to wisdom one of the more interesting results is how one approaches life in general.
Life runs in cycles. I’m not particularly interested through which cycle one chooses to examine their life, but I’m quite sure that any solid pattern could be used just fine. For me I find that the pattern of the Tarot is quite sufficient—and quite enlightening. But I think it is really blind to assume that life just goes and goes, unchanging or even randomly changing without the slightest hint of being able to see these patterns. They may truly, of course, be more akin to chaotic patterns in nature, but they are still patterns nonetheless.
Being able to see these patterns is not a gift. It’s an ability that can be learned and a framework that can be examined. Pick a door. Any door. Just pick one. You will be able to change your mind if you want later. The framework is unimportant so long as it is meaningful to you.
So where am I going with this? And especially in relation to "divided for love’s sake"?
Examining my own patterns I find an interesting trend of relationships that grows wider over time—and I don’t mean, necessarily, romantic or familial ties though those are included as well. That is to say, my relationships last longer and longer each time because they are built not only on the experiences of the previous ones but they are maturing over time. The youthful exuberance of flitting from bed to bed and from heart to heart is drawing to a close. It was fun. It was necessary for maturity. But it is nonetheless a part of a larger cycle that must eventually continue to spiral upward through evolution or it will continue to run in circles until it exhausts itself and dies from a lack of growth.
The verse says that we are "divided for love’s sake, for the chance of union." If union was not an option, then there would be no division in the first place. But we focus so much on the division, on the combination of opposites, that we fail to focus on the union or the result of that union. Yes, yes: I know—"delivered from the lust of results" and all that. We’re not talking about the "lust of results" but the results themselves. What is the result of union from division?
I think it is ironic that we see bloggers and forum posters all over the place that decry in some kind of mock amazement (or offer in some kind of mock enlightenment) that Thelema has many, many similarities and common themes of Christianity as well as the greater concept of religion in general. I’ve often been amazed and approached such "insights" with a sense of Duh! Union of opposites is not only not some kind of unique theme to Thelema or occultism as a whole but it is a part of all religions and all mystical experiences throughout time. What seems to be unique to Thelema is the focus on the temporal rather than merely the spiritual. It proclaims that the physical union is just as important as the spiritual union. This is one reason why the HGA event and communion cannot be merely a spiritual or initiatory experience. It must be a physical and rational experience as well.
But as I become older, and these cycles become wider, I find that I’m not as disturbed by this movement as I thought I would be when younger. I find just as knowledge evolves into wisdom so the more temporary, polyamorous movement from one passionate and fiery relationship to another that is abundant in youth evolves into a more monogamous and steadily burning commitment as age progresses. The peaks are less oxygen-depriving and the valleys are less monotonous. And I find that opposites don’t seem so opposing after all.
Unfortunately not everyone experiences this evolution into maturity. Mid-life crisis in men—something I apparently missed completely—could be attributed to this lack of maturity. The counterpart in women, a "cougar-ism" so to speak, also attributed to the same. I find both of these behavior issues to be distasteful and inane. Certainly, these fall under "weak joys."
Both physical and spiritual, external and internal, life is about movement toward union. I find myself at a loss to explain how I’ve missed this somehow.
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Wood · Social |
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Fire · Spiritual |
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Earth · Physical |
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Metal · Emotional |
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Water · Psychological |
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