A View from the Back Pew -- Review

A VIEW FROM THE BACK PEW: God, Religion & Our Personal Quest for Truth. By Tim O’Donnell. Kansas City, MO: Linchpin Publishing, 2011. Xiv + 264 pages.

More and more people are identifying themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” This new category of religious people is comprised mostly of people who believe in God or at least some “higher power,” but are either dissatisfied with institutional religion or have been hurt by it. They like God, just not the institution. This “new” breed of spiritually-inclined people tends to be eclectic, though their understandings of spirituality often reflect aspects of whatever tradition they may have been born into. In this new age of spirituality, where religious observance and institutional membership aren’t required or expected people feel free to strike out on their own, picking and choosing from among the various religious offerings. In this new world of spirituality, there is no central authority, but because of the entrepreneurial spirit that is inherent in this new age, one can either choose to be one’s own spiritual authority or attach oneself to one of the many spiritual guides who have emerged in the age of new media. Ultimately, in this age of spiritual eclecticism the individual is the final arbiter of truth.

Tim O’Donnell’s apparently self-published book A View From the Back Pew offers readers a personal memoir of a spiritual journey that reflects this new spirit. The author is a business entrepreneur, former newspaper publisher, and most importantly is a former Roman Catholic. He writes about the journey he took from a rather traditional Roman Catholic upbringing, which included the requisite run-ins with narrow minded and physically abusive Nuns to the realization that he was free to embrace the God within. In large part this book is a product of what O’Donnell calls “The Deal,” a pact he made with God while a college student studying in Rome. He had a spiritual experience that led him to abandon college and pursue his fortune, which he would then use to serve God. When the Roman Church seemingly didn’t have much use for his gift, once he had made his fortune, he chose to strike out on his own and use his fortune to tell his story.

The book itself alternates between stories from his life that carry him to the point at which he could share his sense of the life in the Spirit, with his reflections on the nature of this life – including sharing his own doctrinal perspectives. In the epilogue O’Donnell provides the window by which the journey can be evaluated. The title of the book comes from a more recent experience in Rome, where he is sitting in the back pew of the chapel where he had worshiped as a college student. At that moment, he realized that “one could come to communion with God from within. In a rush of overwhelming understanding, I knew the Church was a man made institution that could not deliver a man to where God really dwelt” (p. 256).

As you read this book you can’t help but sympathize with his struggles, though as a Protestant I have to be careful not to embrace too eagerly a negative portrayal of the Roman Catholic Church (Protestants have been known to do this). But while I can understand why O’Donnell felt hemmed in by the institutional forces of religion, I also found myself needing to raise questions.

Although I could critique this book on theological and historical grounds that wouldn’t seem to make much sense. That critique might sound defensive, and I’m not sure the author would find my critique all that compelling. So, for the most part I’ll leave those issues alone. What I would like to do is raise some questions about tendencies I see in the “spiritual but not religious” movement, which are exemplified in this book, that do concern me.

I’ll start with O’Donnell’s relationship with Roman Catholicism. It is clear that his understanding of Christian faith is wrapped up tightly with what he learned and experienced growing up in the Catholic Church, especially his education in Catholic schools, including those encounters with rather physically abusive nuns. This schooling introduced Tim O’Donnell to a rather narrow view of faith, one that was rigid and punitive. There were, of course, signs of grace here and there, but these seem to be the exceptions. Although O’Donnell knows that there are other forms of Christianity, including Protestantism, he doesn’t seem interested in them. Like many who emerge from the Catholic context it’s hard to break free of this orbit. As we often hear – once you’re a Catholic always a Catholic, even if you’re a lapsed one. So, much of his argument with institutional Christianity is wrapped up in his experiences of the Catholic Church. Ironically, even though he is disenchanted with traditional Christianity, it is this faith tradition that provides the foundation for his own reflections. This Catholic Faith provides the lenses through which he reinterprets his own experiences.

More problematic in my mind is what I’ll call the “infatuation with Gnosticism” that is so prevalent among many “spiritual but not religious” folks. The idea that the Gnostic texts were excluded from the canon by a narrow minded religious institution seems to give them added authority. Whether it is the recent hullabaloo over the Gospel of Judas or the popularization of gnostic gospels in The Da Vinci Code, the idea that the Church tried to suppress alternative versions of the Jesus story has caught on in the popular mind. In an age that distrusts institutions, this process of canonization, rather than being an example of divine providence, is a sign that the church knows something to be true that they don’t want out. And what is that truth? Well, often the truth is that there is a pathway to God that bypasses the institution. But what we don’t see in this engagement with the Gnostic texts is a recognition that Gnosticism tended to be elitist (after all the Gnostics saw themselves as possessors of secret knowledge), docetic (by and large they denied the value of the physical/material world), and they also tended to be anti-Jewish (Marcion – one of the heroes of Gnosticism – believed that the God of the Old Testament was the creator of the world – which was evil – and not the God of Jesus). The existence of these texts do remind us that the early Christian community was diverse, but I would question the enthusiasm with which their message is being received, without much further examination of them.

The biggest concerns that I have about this movement, which are exemplified by the life of the author, relate to two areas that I think are related. First, there is the issue of a moral/ethical vision, and the second has to do with community.

I’ll deal first with the matter of ethics/moral foundations. Although, the author appears, from his own self-description, to be a man of high moral standards – he exhibits these in his business practices – I’m left wondering about where these standards were derived. My sense is that they were instilled in him by his Catholic upbringing. Despite this, I don’t see much concern for social justice in this understandings of spirituality. He criticizes the Catholic Church for excluding women from the priesthood, but that seems to be part of his overall reaction to the narrowness of the institution. I may have missed something, so I’d be glad to hear from the author about his vision of social justice, but something that did stick out was his rather angry rejection of a statement by a Catholic college professor that wealth was evil. Since the author wants to include Jesus in his own spiritual self-understanding, I’m wondering what he makes of Jesus’ rather regular denunciations of a pursuit of wealth, including his call for the young man to sell all his possessions and give to the poor or his suggestion that one can’t serve God and wealth. So my question is – if I am my own religious authority, who is in the position to challenge my moral/ethical standards?

The final concern that I have about the “spiritual by not religious” movement has to do with the individualism that is prevalent in this movement. O’Donnell, like many in this movement, has essentially created his own religion to fit his own perspectives (yes I know that to some degree we all do this). He is, by his own admission, the author and founder of his faith, which is rooted in the supposition that we are all somehow God incarnate. That is, while he honors Jesus, he believes that we can all be Christs, and he tries to interpret biblical texts in that light. As I read his interpretations of these texts, many of which are filtered through his embrace of the gnostic gospels, I found his interpretations to stretch the meanings beyond what they’re capable of holding, but again my focus isn’t on the doctrinal side of things. My concern is with the individualism that undermines the call to community. O’Donnell doesn’t say this, but there is a sense that if Christ is within us, and that all we need to do to find God is to look within, then why would we need a community? We are essentially spiritually self-sufficient. And if we’re self-sufficient then no one or no institution can challenge my sense of what is true and what is right. In the end, not only is the institution unnecessary (and human-made), but community is unnecessary? But as I read the biblical texts I see in them a call to community. Paul speaks of the church not as institution but as the body of Christ. It is a living being, in which every member is important. I’m wondering what will happen to the spiritual lives of those who have no connection to a community that challenges and supports one as one takes the journey of faith. I struggled with how to respond to this book, because I don’t want to come off as defensive of my tradition or the institution. I must admit that the institution and the tradition needs critique. At the same time, while I found O’Donnell’s book to be a well-written and expressive of his own journey, I believe that there are important questions that need to be posed to those who have embraced this “spiritual but not religious” idea. And these questions need to be asked now while this movement is growing at an increasingly fast pace, so fast that it is in many ways leading to the emptying out of the church that employs folks like me. So, I do have a vested interest in this conversation.

What we on the institutional side of things can learn here is that there is a strong sense of disappointment and frustration among the populace. The traditional institutions aren’t speaking to their hearts or their minds. The question is why? Why do people feel the need to strike out on their own? At the same time, I wonder if this new movement pushes the pendulum of institutionalism too far in the other direction, and what that will mean for people’s journeys as they become less and less connected to traditions once held? These are all questions that I pose to further the conversation, and not cut it off.

This review is offered as part of the TLC Book Tours,

which provided this review copy.

What Do You Worship? (Guest Post)

Alex McCauslin is a young seminarian and ministry intern at Central Woodward Christian Church.  One of Alex's assignments is to work with our young adults to create a YA community.  In a posting at her own blog, Alex writes about her encounter with a young woman who was cutting her hair.  This conversation about God, church, and worship raises some intriguing questions.  We know that an increasing number of young adults are listed as "Nones."  That is, they simply don't identify with any religious community or tradition.  That doesn't mean they don't believe in God or that they're not interested in spiritual things, they just don't have a "place" to put these beliefs.  I'd like to use Alex's reflections as a starting point for an important conversation about faith, worship, and a world that feels disconnected to what happens in religious communities.

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This experience has been rattling around in my head for the last week. I am puzzled by it, still.

I recently had my hair cut. The woman cutting my hair was in her early twenties (around my age.) She asked what I was doing with my life, and, of course, I eventually admitted I was studying at Seminary and working for a church.

“So, what religion are you?” She asked.

“I’m Disciples of Christ, it’s Protestant, like Methodists.”

She stared blankly at me and said, “I had a neighbor who was a Mormon and I went to church with her once.”

“We’re not quite like the Mormons,” I said.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m a Christian.”

“Oh, yeah? What church did you go to?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been to church, just youth group with my friends when I was in high school.”

“Cool, what kind of youth group?”

Again, a blank stare. “I don’t know, we just, like, hung out with our friends and talked about stuff. I didn’t really like it that much, so I stopped going.”

I nodded, and, deciding that the conversation was headed nowhere, stopped asking questions about church and started asking questions about her aspirations as a stylist.

Later, after a short lull in our conversation, she returned to the topic of religion. “So you work at a church? What do you do there?”

I told her that I was currently putting together an alternative worship service on Sunday evenings.

She frowned and stopped cutting my hair. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you worship there?”

I didn’t even know what to say. I’d never been asked such a question before, and certainly never by someone who’d claimed to be a Christian.

I told her that we praised God and prayed to Jesus. That we contemplated our purpose, especially as it related to communities that suffered poverty and other oppression.

“That’s cool,” she said and pressed on asking questions about how we actually tried to help people. Eventually she admitted that she had given up trying to make a difference, as she had realized it wasn’t really possible.

As she was walking me to the front desk to pay for my haircut, she brought up the topic of religion a third time, out of the blue and with urgency. “I think I’m a really spiritual person! I just don’t know much about the church. It’s not really for me, I don’t think.”

I’ve heard this comment before. I don’t know what to do with it. Is the church not doing its job? Or is it becoming obsolete to upper-middle class Americans?

I don’t know what to do with the fact that Christians, perhaps myself included, aren’t prepared to answer the question, “What do you worship?” I’ve been thoroughly prepared to answer questions of why or how. But ‘what’ completely threw me off my game.

What do we worship?

ETA: Just went to lunch with a friend who started a new job as Youth Director at a suburban church. She has been observing their current Youth Group program and has concluded that it centers around gossip and chilling. She is appalled and eager to create change.

Reposted from Alex Discerns a Way.

Nurturing Your Child's Spiritual Life (Bruce Epperly)

In the fourth essay in his series on parenting from the persective of process theology, Bruce Epperly speaks to the issue of cultivating trust in a child.  I found this to be an interesting and compelling post, especially after recently being with Martin Marty at the Academy of Parish Clergy annual meeting, where he spoke to the topic of his most recent book:   Building a Culture of Trust.  Bruce reminds us that the process begins as soon as children are born. 

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Nurturing Your Child’s Spiritual Life –

Cultivating Trust

Bruce G. Epperly

The world regularly disappoints us. Things don’t work out as we expected and our best laid plans are often thwarted by unexpected instances of Murphy’s Law. Our trust in the essential goodness of life and humankind is, on occasion, betrayed by institutions, employers, friends, and spouses. Illness strikes and our once predictable world is turned upside down. Beyond that, we know only too well the realities of natural disasters and unexpected accidents. We are never ever fully secure or safe in life on a personal or planetary scale.

Yet, trust, even in a world where death can strike at any moment, is essential for creativity, healthy relationships, and personal and community flourishing. Trust in the world and trust in oneself are intimately related. But, how do we cultivate trust in children in a constantly changing and often insecure world?

Erik Erikson spoke of basic or primordial trust as the most essential need of infants. To grow spiritually and emotionally, infants must answer what Einstein called life’s most important question: “Is the universe friendly?” with a resounding “yes” if they are to find personal and relational fulfillment. But, how do parents cultivate trust that lasts a lifetime in the first months and years of life? Obviously, the infant can’t produce her or his trust. This trust must come from the infant’s experience of the goodness of life, at a deep and unconscious level, through positive and supportive relationships with an infant’s most significant people, most especially mother and father.

Nurturing basic trust in an infant is a matter of parental character and spiritual maturity. Trust is nurtured by faithful and trustworthy persons, who can be relied upon to deliver what they’ve implicitly promised to those who are absolutely dependent and completely vulnerable. In fact, I believe that one of the roles of religious and spiritual traditions is to restore and promote the trust we may not have received in infancy. Healthy religion tells us that we are ultimately safe, cared for, and affirmed regardless of our life situation. The apostle Paul captured the essence of trust when he proclaimed that “nothing can separate us from the love of God” – not even persecution, illness, fear, or death. Centuries earlier, the author of Psalm 139 asserted that if we ascend to the heavens God is there and if we descend to the depths God is there. God is there even when we run away from God and cover ourselves in darkness.

Cultivating trust in infants is grounded in trustworthy and faithful parenting. And, this requires parents to cultivate a sense of consistency in care and love. While an infant can’t intellectually articulate the meaning of love, he or she knows love in action – in an available breast or bottle, in a soothing voice in the night, in the reading of books and massaging of skin, in the tone of our voice, and in the touch of loving arms. The Dalai Lama once said that we are blessed to be born into loving arms and later to die into loving arms.

As a grandparent, I seek to be faithful and trustworthy with my six month old grandson. When I’m visiting him and his parents, I wait till later in the morning to take a walk. My grandson tends to be an early riser, so his mother brings him down to me at 5:00 a.m., so she and my son can get a little more rest before facing the challenges of parenting, householding, and professional life. I place his concerns ahead of my morning rituals - writing or even meditating. I have learned that you can’t give a child too much love, nor can you say “I love you” in too gentle a tone. He learns trust as I securely hold him, come to him when he cries (nowadays after letting him cry a moment or two to begin to learn patience). He discovers trust in loving arms and gentle words.

Cultivating trust invites us to develop our own characters and spiritual growth. As parents, we learn to be trustworthy by taking time out for prayer and meditation, by learning to be patient with ourselves – and this is best learned through prayerfulness and trust in God’s care. We need to remember the flight attendant’s counsel, “put your oxygen mask on first” so we have the resources to be faithful through hours of crying, interruptions at night, and changes in old routines. Our own spiritual nurture reminds us that “it’s not about us” and that peace and well-being involve balancing our own needs with the needs of others.

Cultivating trust also requires a “village” not just to raise a child, but support and nurture parents. We are blessed at this time of our lives to be able to spend a couple days each week with our son, daughter-in-law, and grandson. We hope to do this for years ahead to support his professional parents’ balancing a career with family. And, beyond grandparents, a community of friends and a just and supportive social structure, including the government, contributes to an environment of trust.

Ultimately, we need to cultivate our sense that “all will be well” and that even when we reach our limits, we will have the resources to face life’s challenges with hope, courage, and equanimity.

Trust is a gift; the gift of community, of caring parents, and a trustworthy God. Life is challenging, but trust enables us to live through life’s challenges knowing that we have power to shape our lives and that, when are most vulnerable, nothing can separate us from the love of God.

Bruce Epperly is a theologian, spiritual guide, healing companion, retreat leader and lecturer, and author of nineteen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living; God’s Touch: Faith, Wholeness, and the Healing Miracles of Jesus; and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry. He has taught at Georgetown University, Wesley Theological Seminary, Claremont School of Theology, and Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is currently theologian in residence at St. Peter’s United Church of Christ in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He can be reached at bruceepperly@gmail.com



Creating Communities of Faithful Service

Diversity and unity seem so opposite and contradictory. Yet, they are both hallmarks of the Spirit endowed community of faith. Americans are by definition individualists, even “rugged individualists.” We honor those who “pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” Square-jawed John Wayne represents the vision of the “can-do” spirit of American life. As Christians, many Americans have cultivated a similar understanding of the church. We honor those who represent the entrepreneurial spirit. We commend those who are willing to take risks, to try new things, to blaze new trails. There is value in this spirit of adventure, this willingness to go it alone if necessary. But the church is not a gathering of independent individualists, it is a community gathered and formed by the grace and love of God. It is a body, a system that is more than the sum of its parts. It is diverse but it is also one.

The Spirit’s gifts create within the church this unity in diversity. As we discover and begin to understand these gifts of the Spirit, we will begin to realize that we are dependent on each other. Therefore, we have a duty to work for the common good (1 Cor. 12:7), to build up the body (1 Cor. 14:12). As a body whose members depend on each other, when one suffers, all suffer, when one rejoices, all rejoice (Rom. 12:15; 1 Cor. 12:7, 25-26). Therefore, when a family suffers the death or illness of a loved one or loses a job, the community comes alongside and provides a meal, housekeeping assistance, or just an ear to listen.

This support for one another is the essence of body building, which comes naturally to the Spirit-gifted community. It comes without guilt inducing coercion or expectation of something in return. Such selfless acts come out of a sense of love for the body, a love that is rooted in the grace that is the foundation of the Spirit’s gifts. But, for this grace to become evident, our giftedness must be feed and nourished by our relationship with the living God, whom we know in the person of Jesus Christ. Therefore, our ability to hear and respond to this call to use gifts to build the body is fed spiritually as we attend to our prayers, our study, our worship, and our fellowship with one another.

The key to understanding the role the gifts play in the life of the church is to think in terms of the health of the human body. A healthy body is one that has harmony and balance, with every part working together as one. As with the human body, this balance within the body of Christ lasts only temporarily. It must be continually attended to or it falls out of harmony. Therefore, even as we must continually attend to proper diet and exercise to keep our own bodies in proper working order, the same is true of the body of Christ. Spiritually healthy churches are ones that emphasize worship, prayer, study, teaching opportunities, and fellowship. These are the foods and vitamins that nourish the body.

Proper diet, however, is not enough. Our bodies also need exercise or our muscles will atrophy. By using our gifts to teach, to build houses for the homeless, calling on the home bound, leading grief support groups, to lead worship, we build and strengthen the body of Christ. When we use our gifts we help create an environment where God’s message of reconciliation can take root and lives will be changed.

Process and Parenting: Beauty and Breathing (Bruce Epperly)

Bruce Epperly returns with a new series of guest posts.  As a new grandfather, Bruce brings his theological foundations to the practice of parenting.  This is the first of four essays.  Enjoy!

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Process and Parenting:

Beauty and Breathing

Bruce G. Epperly

My recent adventures in grandparenting have inspired me to reflect on the role of parents as agents of creative transformation and growth in the lives of our children. While there are many pathways to creative and healthy parenting, I believe that the process-relational vision of life can provide parents with both practices and insights. These insights provide a context for the array of good materials on parenting, spiritual development, relationships, and healthy diet penned by psychologists, pediatricians, theologians, and holistic nutritionists.

Alfred North Whitehead once asserted that the aim of the universe is to bring forth beauty. John’s gospel captures this same insight in terms of Jesus’ affirmation that the goal of his ministry was abundant life. God wants us to live beautiful and abundant lives. That’s good counsel for parents – bring beauty into the lives of your children – and claim beauty for yourselves!

Perhaps, no human act shares in God’s activity as much as parenting. Just as God seeks the greatest good in every moment of experience, working with the many factors of life, so we humans in our role as parents are challenged to work within the many events of life – DNA, environment, and gifts and talents – both ours and our child’s. The question for parents is: how do we nurture beauty and abundant life in our role as parents? This is as much about us as our children!

Over the next few weeks, I will be reflecting on parenting from a process perspective, focusing on abundance, beauty, creativity and innovation, relationship, and character and courage. Children born in the twenty-first century, like my own grandson, will face a world of unprecedented change; indeed, they will face changes in planetary climate, the distribution of power, communication and medicine, and economics. The quest for beauty and abundant life will involve, in such circumstances, agility of spirit, the ability to initiate novelty – to make innovations – in response to the constant novelty of 21st century life. This will be, as Whitehead suggests, not just a matter of living – of sustaining life – but living well and living better. Today’s children will need to balance the global and local as they discover that individual well-being must include the well-being of the whole planet and the communities of which they are a part.

Today, I just begin with a simple affirmation: As a parent, I seek to nurture beauty of experience for my child, myself and significant others, and for other children. Beauty has many definitions, but it involves a dynamic interplay of unity and diversity, contrast rather polarization, plurality rather than monotony. As a parent, I seek to create from which our ability to experience beauty emerges – and that is simply trust in the goodness of life. Process theology affirms that God is present in every encounter, seeking the highest good in every situation. As parents, we seek to embody the same values: providing enough vision, support, and safety for a child’s exploration. Just as God provides spiritual nurture and overall consistency to the universe, we parents seek to join order and novelty as the basis for beauty of experience.

Order involves providing a basic safety net, a sense of security that enables a child to feel comfortable with her or his explorations. With infants this means an immediacy of love, care, and nurture. It involves parents cultivating patience as well as endurance to respond to midnight feedings, tears and fears, and the constant need for attention, especially in the first months of life. In many ways, parents and caregivers need to be omnipresent at life’s beginnings, responding immediately to every need, and only later cultivating a creative distance which allows the infant to grow in her or his own patience and ability to wait for gratification and others’ responses. The quest for beauty and personal growth involves nurturing freedom and creativity in the context of safety and every expanding circles of order.

As parents, we are challenged to see the world with eyes of wonder – to have the beginner’s mind just as an infant does, seeing the world and our child as if for the first time. With infants, every moment is a “thin place” – a place of holiness – as they encounter the world and parents are invited to share in this moment by moment novelty. This isn’t an easy task, because we have already established our own ways of orienting the world. But, the coming of an infant calls us to spiritual growth in which we learn to live moment by moment - in this now, considering the lilies as well as our child’s next breath.

Parenting truly is a spiritual discipline – it involves vision, patience, and self-care. Self-care almost seems impossible to new parents; but parents who realize that “it takes a village” will call upon grandparents, close friends, and occasionally paid companions in the first weeks of a baby’s life just to get a moment of self-nurture, rest, and prayer. Parenting involves an expansion of care – of altruism – such that the well-being of my child is as important as my own. I suspect that this is both a matter of nature – of the deeply-rooted desire to preserve the species – as nurture – the cultivation of practices of love, patience, and wholeness. We can’t control a child’s crying initially, but – as Viktor Frankl suggests – we have freedom in our response.

A Spiritual Practice for Parenting: The easiest spiritual practice for mothers and fathers is simply breathing. We can breathe intentionally, opening to the calming resources of the universe. We can see our breath as a way of connecting with our highest wisdom and calm, our insights. Breath inspires and connects with greater wisdom and peace. Breath enables us to be more patient and awakens our own energy when we are fatigued. It centers us so that we can provide a healthy center for our child. So, begin the day with conscious breathing and take a deep holy breath whenever you become stressed or impatient with your child.

Beauty and breathing are today’s words for process parenting along with opening to the resources of your community for your self-care and the care of your child.

Bruce Epperly is a theologian, spiritual guide, healing companion, retreat leader and lecturer, and author of nineteen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living; God’s Touch: Faith, Wholeness, and the Healing Miracles of Jesus; Reiki Healing Touch and the Way of Jesus; and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry. He may be reached for questions and engagements at bruceepperly@gmail.com.

 

Is Yoga a Form of Hinduism? Is Hinduism a Form of Yoga? --- Sightings

One of the Big Issues of 2010 concerned whether Yoga was a Hindu practice and thus off limits to Christians.  Interestingly enough, there was agreement from both some Hindus and some Christians that this was true.  Al Mohler on one side said that Yoga was too Hindu for Christians, while a number of Hindus (Hindu American Foundation) said that American Yoga wasn't Hindu enough and therefore Christians should get their hands off the practice so that Hinduism can be put back into this important Hindu practice.  Well, maybe things are a bit more complicated than this, and Wendy Doniger, an expert on Hinduism at the University of Chicago, sorts things out for us!  I may not practice yoga, but if I did, thanks to Wendy, I needn't fear for my soul!  Take a read.

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Sightings 12/30/2010

Is Yoga a Form of Hinduism?

Is Hinduism a Form of Yoga?

- Wendy Doniger

Debates about these questions have been making headlines lately. Some American Hindus have argued that American yoga is not Hindu enough, that Hindus should “Take Back Yoga” (the label of a campaign by the Hindu American Foundation). Other Americans agree that the Hindus should take back yoga—but because yoga is too Hindu: R. Albert Mohler Jr., president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, advises Christians to abandon yoga if they value their (Christian) souls, for “yoga, as a spiritual practice, runs directly counter to the spiritual counsel of the Bible.” The problem should not have been breaking news; a spoof in 2003, “Yoga: A Religion for Sex Addicts,” depicted a Christian minister who was asked, “Should Christians practice Yoga?” He replied, “Are we going to have to bring this whole thing up about Yoga again? I thought our Sunday school curriculum included lessons about the evils of everything Oriental, including Yoga!”

But the issues involved are not trivial. Is yoga, in fact, “a spiritual practice”? More particularly, is it a Hindu spiritual practice? The word “yoga” originally meant “yoking” horses to chariots or draft animals to plows or wagons (the Sanskrit and English words are cognate). Though many yoga practitioners, particularly but not only Hindus, insist that their practice can be traced back to the Upanishads (c. 600 BCE) and Patanjali (c. 200 CE), the word “yoga” in these texts designates a spiritual praxis of meditation conjoined with breath-control, “yoking” the senses in order to control the spirit, and then “yoking” the mind in order to obtain immortality.

Buddhist sources in this same period also speak of techniques of disciplining the mind and the body, and the word “yoga,” owing as much to Buddhism as to Hinduism, soon came to mean any mental and physical praxis of this sort. (Similar disciplines arose in ancient Greece and, later, in Christianity, a subject on which Pierre Hadot and Michel Foucault had a great deal to say). This is the general sense in which the word “yoga” is used in the Bhagavad Gita, a few centuries later, to denote each of three different religious paths (the yoga of action, the yoga of meditation, and the yoga of devotion). But these texts say nothing about the physical “positions” or “postures” that distinguish contemporary yoga. The postures developed much later, some from medieval Hatha Yoga and Tantra, but more from nineteenth-century European traditions such as Swedish gymnastics, British body-building, Christian Science, and the YMCA, and still others devised by twentieth-century Hindus such as T. Krishnamacharya and B. K. S. Iyengar, reacting against those non-Indian influences.

So there is an ancient Indian yoga, but it is not the source of most of what people do in today’s yoga classes. Contemporary yoga traditions are a far cry both from the Upanishads and from Hatha Yoga. Most twenty-first century American yoga practitioners have more in common with a jogger than with a meditating sage; they want to relax after a hard day at the office, tighten up their abs, and reduce their cholesterol and their blood pressure; their yoga of relaxation and stretching may also involve regular enemas, a cure for back pain, a beauty regime, a vegetarian diet with a lot of yogurt (which is not etymologically related to “yoga”)--oh yes, and a route to God.

Is yoga, then, for the mind or for the body? Is it like going to church or like going to the gym? Is it a spiritual praxis or an exercise routine? To all these questions, the answer is: yes. For some people (both in India and in America) it has been one, for others, the other, and for many, both.

In his online column and elsewhere, the Reverend Mohler has objected to the frequent citation by yoga teachers of "the idea that the body is a vehicle for reaching consciousness with the divine," which he says is “just not Christianity.” But yoga is “not just Hinduism”; as we have seen, it has rich European (and Christian!) elements. Despite this historical evidence, however, many Hindus, such as those in the Hindu American Foundation, insist that meditational yoga—rather than temple rituals, the worship of images of the gods, or other, more passionate and communal forms of religion—has always been, and remains, the essence of Hinduism, their religion. Christians for whom a yoga class is simply physical exercise may offend such Hindus but should pose no problem for Mohler; and Christians who take the philosophical doctrines of yoga seriously should be no problem for a more ecumenical, not to say multi-cultural, pastor.

References

Landover Baptist Church, “Yoga: A Religion for Sex Addicts,” March 2003.

Dylan Lovan, “Southern Baptist Leader on Yoga: Not Christianity,” Associated Press, October 7, 2010.

R. Albert Mohler, Jr., “Yahoo, Yoga, and Yours Truly,” AlbertMohler.com, October 7, 2010.

Paul Vitrello, “Hindu Group Stirs a Debate Over Yoga’s Soul,” New York Times, November 27, 2010.

Wendy Doniger is the Mircea Eliade Distinguished Service Professor of the History of Religions at the University of Chicago and has published translations of the Rig Veda, the Laws of Manu, and the Kamasutra. Her latest book is The Hindus: An Alternative History (Penguin, 2009).

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Editor’s Note: Sightings will break and return on Thursday, January 6. Happy New Year!

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Sightings comes from the Martin Marty Center at the University of Chicago Divinity School.



A GOOD ENOUGH THEOLOGICAL DIET: Silence, Vision, and Action (Bruce Epperly)

Having stated in last week's post the need for a "good enough theology," Bruce Epperly begins today what will be a series of posts that offer a sense of what that might look like.  This week he looks to the Quakers for guidance, and in future posts will explore the contributions of evangelicals, Pentecostals, and others.  It should be a most enlightening series.  After you read Bruce's ponderings, I invite you to join in the conversation. 

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A GOOD ENOUGH THEOLOGICAL DIET:

SILENCE, VISION, AND ACTION

“Polydox in character, a good theology makes room for many theological possibilities and discovers wisdom in a variety of theological perspectives – the embodied and dynamic theology of process thought; the intimacy of evangelical theology; the open-endedness of liberalism; the liveliness of Pentecostalism; the non-violence of mimetic, Quaker, and Anabaptist theologies; the stability of fundamentalism; the unrest and challenge of liberation theology; the diverse wisdoms of womanist, feminist, and indigenous theologies; the incarnational spirit of Orthodox Christian theologies; the sacramental character of Catholic theologies; the wild adventurousness of Celtic theology; and the fiery spirit of mystical theology…and more. All these are part of a good enough theological diet.”  (Bruce Epperly, “A Good Enough Theology,” in Ponderings on a Faith Journey, August 10, 2010).

Last week, I asserted that a good enough theology requires a balance of many perspectives.

Just as a good diet requires different food groups, healthy theology requires varied foods for the spirit. A healthy theological diet has what Bernard Loomer described as “size,” it embraces diversity around an evolving center. In the weeks ahead, I will explore different aspects of a healthy theological diet, recognizing that no one perspective is all inclusive. While I believe that process theology provides the most holistic and inclusive basis for a healthy moderate and progressive theological perspective, I recognize that there are other perspectives that shape the theological journey.

Today, I will reflect on the integration of silence, vision, and action, characteristic of the Quakers or Friends. My words will be evocative and practical, rather than scholarly. I will be relating how Quaker spirituality and theology has shaped my journey and belongs in good enough theological diet.

When someone from a liturgical church asks me what happens in a Quaker meeting, I often humorously reply, “nothing.” We sit around a circle in chairs, we listen for God’s voice, and now and again, someone stands up and shares words that they feel have emerged in the silence. Quakers remind us that God speaks in a still, small voice – that God’s Spirit intercedes for us in sighs too deep for words. God’s Spirit intercedes and speaks within, however, all of us, not an elect or chosen few. Within every life shines an inner light, the light that John’s gospel describes – the light that created the universe and enlivens each person. We live in a God-filled, God-inspired universe, in which the least likely – the vulnerable, outcast, youthful, or physically or mentally challenged, reveal God’s presence.

Now, that’s a big vision: God is present in everyone’s life. There is a democracy of revelation that embraces both slave and master, outlaw and law abiding-citizen , alien and resident , poor and wealthy. This big vision leads to big political and cultural consequences: if God is present in every life, then every life is precious and deserves justice and fairness – this affirmation included in early Quaker history, African slaves and First Americans. Slavery and genocide are “heresies” because they deny God’s image in our brothers and sisters. (Later, Bishop Desmond Tutu was to call apartheid a heresy for the same reason.) Deep down, we are “friends” of everyone, recognizing the divinity in others is at the heart of the Christian journey.

Vision leads to action, and so does contemplation. In many progressive and moderate churches, contemplation and action, and spirituality and justice are placed in opposition. You can’t do both – social action is combative and disturbs our spiritual equanimity; spirituality is naval gazing that turns us away from justice and equality. The Quakers saw contemplation and action as interdependent, complementary, and requiring one another. Without contemplation, activism polarizes, repeats the sins of the oppressors, and leads to personal burn out. Without action, contemplation becomes “so heavenly minded that it’s no earthly good.”

In this brief reflection, I hope that you have gotten a first course in a good enough theology – we need a spiritual vision – a vision of God’s omnipresent care, revealed in each creature; we discover that vision by taking time for silence that awakens us to the divine light in ourselves and others; we complete circle by visionary action aimed at enabling all persons, indeed, all creatures, to have the opportunity to experience God’s inner light as their deepest reality.

This first course can be preached, prayed, and practiced, and be part of a balanced theological diet.

Bruce Epperly is a seminary professor and administrator at Lancaster Theological Seminary, pastor, theologian, and spiritual companion. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living, a response to Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life. His Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry, written with Katherine Gould Epperly, was selected Book of the Year by the Academy of Parish Clergy.  His most recent book is From a Mustard Seed: Enlivening Worship and Music in the Small Church, written with Daryl Hollinger.

Difference-Making Preaching

Except when I'm on vacation or have some other good reason for not preaching, I'm in the pulpit most Sundays.  I preach on average about 45 sermons a year, and have done so for the better part of the past 12 years.  That's a few sermons.  Some of them have been, with all due modesty, pretty good, while some have been duds.  Interestingly, some sermons that I think have fallen flat, have received the most positive comments -- and well you know the other side.  That says to me that the power of the sermon is not totally in the hands of the preacher.  Once the words leave one's mouth, we preachers must entrust them to the care of the Holy Spirit.   I think that has to be true even for the great orators amongst us. 

That being said, we preachers do have a responsibility to the text, to the recipients of our message, and to the God who has called us to this place, to be diligent in our work.  Keith Watkins has, this past week, offered a masterful essay on preaching from a progressive point of view.  Turning to a decades old preaching textbook written by H. Grady Davis entitled Design for Preaching.  In this book, written about the time I was born, Davis offers four questions for the preacher to consider:  "Is it true? Do I believe it? Will my people believe it? Even if it is true, what difference does it make?"

Keith notes that progressive/liberal preachers, especially at a time when there are an abundance of conservative theologies present and when so many eschew faith because of its supposed anti-intellectualism, work hard on the first three questions.  We are, he suggests, intent on offering something to people that is believable, so we attend to this task with great relish.  And we do this in at least four ways:

We work at this in at least four ways: 1) Discount, deny, or argue against the ideas and practices which we think are inadequate; 2) Extract from the biblical record or theological tradition those kernels of truth that we think can be believed and practiced by people today; 3) Ignore the archaic or unbelievable elements, even if they include central elements of the biblical tradition, and replace them with elements from our own time; 4) Develop each text in the light of the major Christian story.

Where we have trouble is with the fourth question.  Even if we come up with a believable message, replacing for instance an ancient cosmology with a modern evolutionary one, does it actually make a difference?  At the end of the day, have we ended up with an intellectually pleasing lecture, but not something that makes a difference in the lives of the other.  Keith goes into greater detail, offering links to longer pieces that he has written, at his blog, which I would encourage you to read in its entirety.  Many preachers do offer a dry intellectualism devoid of spiritual benefit, but this isn't true of all.

As Keith notes:

Fortunately, however, many sermons in progressive worship do focus on the life-giving center of the gospel text and on the difference that this can make. On every Sunday in progressive churches, including those intended to be something other services, the work of preachers is to speak the central story of God’s love in Jesus Christ so that people can understand and experience it. Just as we translate the gospels from Greek to the vernacular speech of people in the worshiping assembly, so we search for metaphors and ideas from the cultural world in which the preacher and congregants live to translate the Word of God into the words of the people.

Our task is to do more than simply diagnose and prescribe, but also spend time "proclaiming, professing, and experiencing."  Some of this happens in a service outside the pulpit, but "the solo voice of a preacher will continue to be the most often heard. May its message speak the living Word of God to people in a way that gives life to all who hear it."

What Keith has done here is offer those of us who preach a word of encouragement to recognize that our voice is an instrument of God.  Whether it is booming (mine tends toward that direction) or soft, whether witty or not, the encouragement here is to continue looking to make the word intelligible, but not stop there.  The goal of preaching isn't education, it is offering a gospel that transforms lives.  That is, a word that is spiritually oriented.

Why Progressive Theology is Important -- Christian Faith and Global Spirituality (Bruce Epperly)

With Anne Rice's recent revelation that she's not leaving Christ, but is leaving Christianity, perhaps she'd change her mind if she were to read Bruce Epperly's series on Progressive Theology!   In this essay, Bruce addresses the Christian hunger for mystical or spiritual experiences.  In doing so, he writes about the ways in which progressive Christians can with discernment make use of a variety of resources, including those that emerge out of other faith traditions.  I invite you to read and respond to this word of guidance.

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Why Progressive Theology is Important:

Christian Faith and Global Spirituality

Bruce Epperly

In the last few weeks, I have reflected on the importance of progressive theology for the future of Christianity. It is clear that theology is important and can be the difference between life and death, individually and globally. What we believe shapes our character, actions, political involvements, and vision of the future of the planet. Today, I would like to reflect on spiritual experience from the perspective of progressive Christianity. If, as a recent Pew Center Report suggests, over 50% of mainline Christians claim self-transcendent or mystical experiences, then the experiential side of religion is key to the future of progressive Christianity. Indeed, while today’s seekers are intellectually curious and want good theology, they are, on the whole, interested in experiencing the faith they affirm.

Most progressives are open to a variety of religious experiences. In the spirit of the Prologue to John’s Gospel (John 1:1-18), most progressives affirm that “the true light, which enlightens everyone” is the source of the many paths to the divine as well as the insights of agnostics and atheists. As progressive Christians, we look for truth wherever it is found, whether in the sanctuary, Benedictine monastery, Zen center, yoga retreat, or healing touch training program.

We are open to God inspiring us through Quaker silence, Gospel rhythms, Pentecostal tongue speaking, evangelical prayer, and Ignatian imaginative contemplation as well as Hindu meditation, Native American and traditional African practices, and Sufi dancing. While such openness has been critiqued as “designer religion” or “cafeteria Catholicism,” I believe that the progressive spirit reflects Paul’s vision of God as the one “in whom we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28)

Paul’s sermon in Athens (Acts 17:16-34) reflects the dialogical nature of progressive spirituality. On the one hand, Paul accepts the wisdom of Greek philosophy in his description of God as the reality in whom all things live and grow. He also affirms the universal and intimate divine-human connection – “for we are God’s offspring.” (Acts 17:28) There is always a point of contact between God and humankind, which is the source of the spiritual quest in all its forms.

Paul’s words are an invitation to an open-spirited, Christ-centered approach to the varieties of spiritual practices. So, in light of Paul’s affirmation of global revelation and divine intimacy, it is possible to integrate Christian prayer with Buddhist meditation; liturgical worship with Hindu breathing techniques; political action with Gandhi’s satyagraha (soul force) just as he integrates the wisdom of Christ with the wisdom of Greek philosophy. This is not a corruption of our faith, but an expansion of our faith, a growing in wisdom and stature.

Paul also reminds us, by his “distress” (Acts 17:16) that not all philosophies and spiritualities are compatible with following the way of Jesus and that Christians must be willing to evaluate critically the various religious paths in light of God’s world-affirming and healing revelation in Jesus of Nazareth. For example, progressive Christians can gain wisdom from the new age text, The Secret, in terms of its emphasis on positive thinking and visualization, while challenging its affirmation that “you create your own reality” and its tendency toward individualism and rewards-punishments thinking, which often leads to blaming the victim for her or his failures. Progressive Christians can learn much from Hindu meditation without adopting the theory of reincarnation or explanations for people’s suffering in this lifetime in terms of past life behavior.

Progressive Christianity is open to the world in all its wonder and complexity. As my teacher John Cobb asserted, Christ is the way that includes no way. Christ’s transformative power can inspire us to embrace a variety of practices in light of our commitment to the dynamic, all-inspiring, abundance-seeking God of all creation. Yet, our openness to global spirituality also calls us to deepen our theology and spiritual practices as Christians. In a global age, with many spiritual paths, we need to take Christian theology and spirituality more, rather than less, seriously. We need to articulate Christ-centered and Spirit-centered visions of the divine, which inspire us to seek justice, affirm diversity, and commit ourselves to healing the planet. Our theologies and practices as Christians are the center points that enable us to integrate creatively the diverse spiritual visions and practices of our time. Deep theological and spiritual commitments enable us as Christians to grow in wisdom and stature as we welcome and embrace the many faiths of our world. This is the way of peace both within our hearts and in our relationships with other spiritual pilgrims.

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary and co-pastor of Disciples Community Church in Lancaster, PA. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and

Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

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Why Progressive Theology Matters: God is Still Speaking (Bruce Epperly)

There is a verse that appears near the close of the book of Revelation, which suggests that anyone adding to the book faces divine curses.  Some have taken this little message to be speaking of the Scriptures as a whole, so that if you share any revelatory materials beyond this passage, then God will get you.  In other words, God has spoken once and for all and is now forever silent.  But is God forever silent?  Could it be that God might still be speaking?.  Remember that this passage only works because of its placement at the end of the canonical books of the New Testament, a placement that was in doubt as late as the fifth century.  But, if God is still speaking, how is God speaking and what does this mean for us?  Bruce Epperly once again points us toward progressive theology, suggesting that it has resources that might help us hear God's voice today. 

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Why Progressive Theology Matters:

God is Still Speaking

Bruce Epperly

My denomination, the United Church of Christ, proclaims “God is still speaking” in much of its literature, but is still trying to figure out what this statement truly means for moderate and progressive Christians. I believe this statement takes people in the United Church of Christ and other denominations much further than its original intent: it asks us to become practically-oriented mystics. In fact, the affirmation that “God is still speaking” is at the heart of a spirit-centered progressive faith that can transform the face of North American Christianity. In light of the recent Pew Center report, indicating that 50% of mainstream Christians have had mystical experiences, today’s progressive and moderate Christians are challenged to claim their spiritual experiences and develop open-ended practices appropriate to progressive Christian theology.

Today, progressives need to claim a holistic spirituality that embraces action and contemplation, and mysticism and social transformation. Progressive theology has untapped resources for holistic mysticism and spiritual transformation. First, of all, progressive theology affirms the universality of God’s presence and revelation. God is moving in and through all things; no one is exempt from revelation. God touches everyone and everyone can touch God. Second, progressive theology affirms that God is alive and constantly creating in our world. The affirmation that “God is still speaking” embraces and joins spirituality and social transformation. God is constantly doing a new thing in widening the scope of liberation and healing for us and all creation. God’s new vision invites us to go beyond biblical literalism and exclusiveness to affirm God’s presence in science, medicine, evolutionary theory, and gender and marriage equality. But, just as important, God is inspiring us in new ways as individuals, calling us to explore new dimensions of spiritual formation and healing and wholeness. Third, the dynamic divine-human “call and response” brings forth constantly new possibilities for creativity and adventure in spirituality, politics, and relationships. Our changes inspire God to act in new ways and divine activity inspires us to embody new paths of faith and action.

The God who is “new every morning” and “new every moment” invites us to novel forms of spirituality and social concern appropriate to our time and place. A joke among United Church of Christ folk is “God is still speaking, but is anyone listening?” Listening to God implies that we trust God’s voice in our lives as we open to the many media of revelation – in moments of quiet contemplation, intuitive experiences, dreams, encounters, literary work, meditative practices, yoga and energy work, and calls to service. Listening to God inspires us to let our lives speak through actions that transform our relationships and social structures.

Today, progressive Christianity needs to come out of the closet and claim its spiritual gifts and resources. Our churches need to become laboratories of the spirit, inspiring our care for this good earth. Today’s Christianity needs holistic spiritual practices, embracing the traditions of Christianity in a new and creative ways, and open to the insights of non-Christian spiritualities.

Progressive Christianity can be a leader in dynamic global spiritual formation that embraces the quests of seekers within and beyond the church.

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary and co-pastor of Disciples Community Church in Lancaster, PA. He is the author of seventeen books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

The Character of Our Discontent -- Review Redux

THE CHARACTER OF OUR DISCONTENT: Old Testament Portraits for Contemporary Times. By Allan R. Bevere. Gonzalez, FL: Energion Publications, 2010.  ix + 111 pages.

It is safe to say that most preachers focus on the New Testament. The gospels are popular, but the Pauline epistles are probably even more popular, especially for those preachers with a penchant for doctrinal preaching. There is an obvious reason for this – the New Testament defines and describes the foundations of the Christian faith. This is especially true for faith communities that like to describe themselves as advocates of a “New Testament Christianity.” And yet, the Bible that those first “New Testament Christians” used was the Hebrew Bible (even if many used the Greek translations). Thus, it could be said that the earliest Christian preachers, including both Jesus and Paul made regular use of the Hebrew Bible in their sermons.

Into the breach steps Allan Bevere, a United Methodist pastor with advanced training in the New Testament – having studied at the University of Durham with James D. G. Dunn, who seeks to offer the preacher encouragement to engage with the Old Testament. Bevere, admits that he shares the preacher’s aversion to taking up the Old Testament, but with this book of sermons he seeks to remedy the situation. With nineteen sermons, he seeks to offer guidance and encouragement to other preachers.

The author is well equipped to handle and struggle with the biblical text. In an age of specialization, he might not be an Old Testament scholar, but the work done studying one set of scriptures gives him the proper tools to handle the other. As one whose academic specialization is 18th century Anglicanism, the gap between my specialization and the Old Testament is far greater than his. Preachers, however, are not limited by specialization – they’re called to handle the full canon along with the traditions of the church.

The Character of Our Discontent consists of nineteen sermons preached on texts drawn from the Old Testament, with a focus on the way Old Testament characters lived their faith. The sermons begin with Abraham and continue on through Ezekiel. Most, though not all, of these characters offer positive role models – the two most obvious negative figures are Samson and Saul. Among these characters, the lone woman who figures into the picture is Esther, who represents faithfulness to God in difficult circumstances.

The key words in this series of sermons are character and discontent. Even the best of persons, including Abraham and Moses, do not always live up to the standards that God has set before us. We are, Bevere writes, “discontented because we lack, and often we are not sure what we lack nor where to find what we truly need.” Indeed, we may not even be sure about what it is that we seem to be lacking, but we know that something is missing. When it comes to character, perfection comes not instantaneously, but over time, and this process is not easy (pp. 1-2).

There was a day when preachers regularly published sermons, but except for online options, there are few books of sermons available. Where once sermons were considered an important form of literature, that is no longer true. We’ve become a much more oral and visual culture, so reading sermons lacks the dynamics of the spoken word. One wonders, as one reads the sermons, how they would sound as they are delivered from the pulpit. We lack the sense of gravity and dynamism in mere written words. That being said, reading sermons can be of help – if a publisher is willing to take the risk to make them available – both to the preacher and to the person seeking to grow in faith, and thus the book has two very different audiences. For this we can be thankful to the small independent publisher that sees its business as a ministry.

Reading the sermons, one can get a sense of Bevere’s theological disposition. He’s Methodist, but of a more conservative/evangelical variety. The interpretations, applications, along with the commentaries and other resources consulted point in that direction. Indeed, it becomes rather clear when he quotes from C. S. Lewis’s famous dictum that Jesus could not be a mere mortal man considering what he claimed for himself – “Lord, Liar, or Lunatic.” At the same time, the exegesis and interpretative efforts are solid, as one would expect of one with advanced training.  Of course, in the context of these sermons, Bevere focuses his attention on the biblical story and  on not the critical questions that are inherent in the text.  Ultimately, the focus is on character and one's relationship with God. 

This book of sermons makes for a good, quick, and fruitful read. That is true in large part because, as one would expect in a book of sermons that have been delivered orally, they aren’t overly technical. The language is appropriate for a literate but lay audience. And whether or not you agree with the interpretation of one text or another, you will find something of value here.

 

Note:  This review was originally posted in April and was based upon an advanced Reader copy.  The book is now available from Energion Publications (http://energionpubs.com), for whom I myself have two books in process.