Chaos Before Creation

We began this series on “Our Personal Theology” last week by entering the Deconstruction Zone… the place where old answers don’t work anymore and we begin to dismantle certain beliefs we held true. As I said last week, it takes courage, patience, resilience, tenacity and hope to continue forward from this point, because while entering into the chaos resulting from deconstruction may be necessary, it isn’t always fun or easy.

Every spiritual memoir that I’ve read has included this path – Sue Monk Kidd, Barbara Brown Taylor, Elain Pagels, Mark Nepo, Parker Palmer, Karen Armstrong, Joan Chittester, among others. They all found themselves going through the deconstruction, chaos and eventual reconstruction of their faith. For some it was a gradual deconstruction, a slow realization that more and more beliefs weren’t working for them anymore. And for some there was a precipitous event that knocked them headfirst into the deconstruction zone and chaos – Joan Chittester is the perfect example.

Joan is a Benedictine sister who, many years ago, found herself at a conference in Rome with delegates from religious orders from all over the world. Rome had just announced that they were requiring daily Mass and Eucharist for everyone in all of the convents around the world. The problem was that most religious orders and many churches didn’t have access to a priest to make this a viable requirement.

When they pointed this out, the cardinal simply responded, “If you are unable to receive the Eucharist itself, then you must teach the sisters the Eucharist of Desire… if you desire the Eucharist, then you have the Eucharist.”

The cardinal’s assistant could tell that the women were still troubled by the answer and wasn’t sure they had completely understood, so he jumped in to clarify and said – very slowly and patiently, “What the cardinal is saying, Sisters, is that it is not the Eucharist you lack. What you lack is simply the priestly presence.” The silence in the room was deafening. Joan thought to herself, so apparently, we have been getting up at six o’clock in the morning every morning of our lives more for the presence of the priest than for the presence of Jesus.

It was then she realized when the old answers don’t work anymore you need to take responsibility for your own spiritual journey. It is the plunge into a multitude of questions with very few immediate answers. And once you begin questioning, it’s hard to stop at just one or two. Quickly you may find yourself off the beaten path, surrounded by a chaos of thoughts and feelings.

So, maybe we don’t need a complete overhaul. And maybe we find ourselves asking some very reasonable questions: why do I have to think so hard about this? Why can’t what I know about God be enough for the rest of my life?

Because it’s not a destination, it’s a journey.

I have known many people over the years who were content to keep the theology they learned in Sunday School or confirmation, regardless of whether that rudimentary understanding still made sense or not. Many people did not want their thinking to be challenged by their pastor, to be given new perspectives, or to have their old theology completely contradicted. In some churches, that is a sure-fire way to get your walking-orders (as a pastor). Don’t rock the boat. Don’t throw anyone’s faith life into chaos.

I get it. I do. Afterall, chaos is uncomfortable, uncertain, scary, overwhelming, directionless, out of control, anxiety-provoking and more!

Why on earth would we want to go through that? What motivation could we possibly have for wanting to deconstruct our understanding of God and enter the chaos that follows? Why not simply give up on God? It seems to me, that to go through life disconnected from our spirituality is to settle for a less rich, fulfilling life. It’s easy to fill our time with our family, work, activities, travel, and friends. But it is also possible to have all that and still feel empty without knowing why. The spiritual path seeks to draw us deeper into ourselves and into the ineffable mystery of the world.

But, then, what do we do with the chaos?

 Matthew Fox, in his book Creativity, writes:

Creativity has an answer. We are told by those who have studied the processes of nature that creativity happens at the border between chaos and order. Chaos is a prelude to creativity. We need to learn, as every artist needs to learn, to live with chaos and, indeed, to dance with it as we listen to it and attempt some ordering. Artists wrestle with chaos, take it apart, deconstruct and reconstruct from it. Accept the challenge to convert chaos into some kind of order, respecting the timing of it all, not pushing beyond what is possible – combining holy patience with holy impatience…

We are all artists of our own spirituality, called to create our own understanding of the divine out of the pieces of our lives: experiences, books, scripture from different religious traditions, different spiritual practices like yoga, meditation and reiki, teachings from pastors, priests and professors. And even our chance encounters with people out in the world may give us food for spiritual thought.

Another piece we have to draw upon, whether we know it or not, is the Spirit. The Gospel of John calls her the Spirit of Truth who remains “with you and within you.” Someone once said that she is like a woman in red heels and a boa… you have to watch out because you never quite know what might be coming next or where she might take you. She is the mistress of creating chaos and the mistress of guiding us through the chaos.

One year the oldest living alumni from the seminary at Boston University returned for homecoming. But the students weren’t overly thrilled to have this old guy speaking at their weekly chapel. The day came and they “draped the elderly man over the pulpit. He gazed out at the students and said, ‘I would like to thank my alma mater for setting me free without setting me adrift.’ And he sat down.”

I think that sums up the Spirit of Truth as well… she sets us free from old beliefs, baggage, ideas, but she doesn’t set us adrift. She is our anchor, our tether, our lifeline when we feel lost, and she accompanies us on our spiritual journeys helping us create anew.

Joan Chittester, in her book, Called to Question, shares this:

[O]ver time I’ve come to a new awareness: I am not the only person who has gone through life watching as one certainty after another is dismantled and turns to dust. Nor am I alone in the realization that there is another kind of certainty that grows stronger in us every day as we begin to make a new spiritual vessel out of the shards of the old one. I began to trust the questions themselves to lead me beyond the answers to understanding, beyond practice to faith.

And this is where we’ll pick up next week…

Love & Light!

Kaye