The last coursepack essay is Wendy Wright's "Passing Angels: The Arts of Spiritual Discernment." I couldn't identify with her anecdotes and most of her theology seemed a trite distillation of writers like Henri Nouwen, but I did appreciate her summary of the three major streams of Christian discernment:

(1) Ignatian (16th c.) - discrimination of affectivity ("how one feels"). Paying attention to "consolations" and "desolations" based on the understanding that the fruit of the Spirit is "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control." In contrast, whatever is not of God leads to "confusion, disharmony, and anxiety." See Sleeping with Bread: Holding What Gives You Life.

(2) Quaker (17th and 18th c.) - communal discernment, "a listening in shared silence, to the 'weight' or groundedness of various alternatives...validated by the intuitive acknowledgment of those gathered." See Listening Hearts: Discerning Call in Community.

(3) Mystical (16th c.) - "gradual, ecstatic, painful process of stripping away all objects of desire and coming to know that it is only God, in God's unfathomable, unknowable mystery, where desire's end can be found." See St. John of the Cross or The Cloud of Unknowing.

I have used the Ignatian method the most -- both daily in my life and weekly with groups ranging from children to teenagers to adults. I am open the other forms and will be interested to see how much emphasis is put on the various methods at San Francisco Theological Seminary.

In "John Calvin on Mystical Union" (the third and final coursepack reading centered on Calvin), Dennis Tamburello's writing is replete with sentences like, "Calvin's understanding ... Calvin himself speaks of ... Calvin's conviction ... Calvin's own words on this point ... Calvin actually speaks of ... Calvin is referring here to ... Calvin is tireless in ... Calvin's rejection of... Calvin wishes to ... Calvin does not make much use of ... Calvin sees it as ... When Calvin brings up ... images used by Calvin in ... Calvin remarks ... It is clear that for Calvin ... Calvin does not characteristically speak explicitly of ... Calvin's tendency is to speak most often of ... Calvin's comment on ... Calvin does not forget that ... Calvin himself shuns ... Calvin would make such a distinction ... Calvin is not opposed to speaking of ... Calvin assigns different roles of ... Calvin's notion of ... Calvin's answer to ... Calvin recognizes a time when ... it is fair to say that for Calvin ... Calvin directly connects ... Calvin rejects any interpretation that...."

I don't care.

More accurately, I am weary of articles that seem written merely to clarify a minor point in an academic field such as "Calvin Studies." I am, for instance, interested in Calvin's theology on unio mystica only in as much as his writing encourages, strengthens, or clarifies experience in the present of unitivity -- which is why I'm glad, at least for now, that I am serving in a church (and not a classroom) and pursuing a Diploma in the Art of Spiritual -- and perhaps eventually a D.Min. (and not a Ph.D.). Theory is vital, but without application and practice, it its fruit withers on the vine. And arguably the best theology emerges out of actual church practice, not vice-versa.

The third-from-last reading in the coursepack is also the longest: the first three chapters of Philip Sheldrake's Befriending Our Desires. My appreciation for spiritual readings may be dulled at this point, but I didn't find that much substance in the lengthy excerpt. It didn't help that the version copied into the coursepack had someone else's "footprints" (underling, notes, and stars).

I did appreciate his point that contemplative prayer can expose our true self, thereby (ironically?) making petitionary prayer more effective. By practicing the presence of God, we can unmask our true selves, increasing the possibility of petitioning rightly (as opposed to falsely or shallowly), that is, asking God for what we truly, deeply desire -- not for what the world (our culture of conspicuous consumption) tells us we desire. Contemplative prayer, opening oneself to receiving the present moment, can "stimulate" "our deepest desires" -- which are not always evident given the ubiquitous "temptation to counterfeit behavior." For a negative example, I'm reminded of Augusten Burrough's descriptions of the manipulative advertising market in his memoir Dry: "Advertising makes everything seem better than it actually is.... It's an industry based on giving people false expectations." For a positive example, Kierkegaard calls this purity of heart "willing one thing."

And, oh yes...Happy Hannukah! It's the first night of Channukah! It's also the youth lock-in at the church. We're watching The Hebrew Hammer to celebrate.

The next readings are basically two handouts: "Clergy Reporting Law" and "Professional Reporting: The California Reporting Law." At least in California, clergy are "mandated reporters" if he or she "knows or reasonably suspects" child abuse. The same was the case in North Carolina for camp counselors back when I worked at Camp Rockmont for Boys in Black Mountain.

In such a case, you are to contact a "child protective agency immediately or as soon as practically possible and...send a written report...within 36 hours."

The good news is (1) "the reporter's name is held confidential" and (2) you are "provided immunity from civil or criminal liability (unless the report was made maliciously)." You are further encouraged to report because "failure for a mandated reporter" can result in a "misdemeanor" and "possible civil liability." Being a mandated reporter also means that clergy can "find out the 'results of the...investigation and of any action.'"

This, of course, begs the question of whether congress should be included in the list of mandated reporters. But, in all seriousness, I'm glad clergy are mandated reporters. The only exception is "penitential communication," and -- while the Alliance of Baptists does not have the same theological history of confession as Roman Catholicism -- one of my ordination vows concerned confidentiality. But, in the case of child abuse (or really any abuse such as rape, murder, Domestic Violence, etc.), there are grounds to break confidentiality -- especially when there is a threat or potential for further abuse. Even if there isn't the threat of more abuse, the victims still likely need therapy and other help.

Confidentiality is necessary so that parishioners have a safe place to talk, but, in the case of abuse, clergy sometimes have to break confidentiality. I don't think it is too much to say that, in this instance, it's what Jesus would do....

Keeping the Roman Catholic assignment count in line with the Reformed (read: Calvin) are three chapters from Karl Rahner's The Practice of Faith: "Experiencing Transcendence," "Everyday Mysticism," and "Experiencing the Spirit." Following from my last post, Rahner makes some good points about how mystical experiences with God are universally available, although, as seems too often to be the case, he uses dense prose: "The grace of a transcendental experience of God that is given essentially radical form by [God's] elevating grace is open to everyone, at least in the sense of an offer which a person can freely accept or reject."

His choice of writing style may be due to his assumed audience: ivory-tower theologians, who have far more second-hand experience with words about God, than first-hand experiences of God. Perhaps he feels compelled to writing in academic language to convince other theologians that first-hand experiences with God are essential; otherwise, one's theological work, "remains really of a secondary character and its conceptual-thematic expression is false."

As with my critique of Johnson's She Who Is, I'm not the target audience (Rahner's preaching to the choir in my case). So, it is boring (and a bit painful) to read his appeals to male, Roman Catholic theologians, whom he presumably hopes to convince by proving that he can write in dense theological jargon just like them. I'm not impressed, but if he has won some converts, then I applaud his effort.

Some of Rahner's best advice echoes Wittgenstein's terse instructions from Philosophical Investigations (1953): "Don't think, but look!"

In Rahner's words, "Be still for once. Don't try to think of so many complex and varied things. Give these deeper realities of the spirit a chance now to rise to the surface: silence, fear, the ineffable longing for truth, for love, for fellowship, for God. Face loneliness, fear, imminent death! Allow such ultimate, basic human experiences to come first. Don't go talking about them, making up theories about them, but simply endure these basic experiences. Then in fact something like a primitive awareness of God can emerge. Then perhaps we cannot say much about it; then what we 'grasp' first of all about God appears to be nothing, to be the absent, the nameless, absorbing and suppressing all that can be expressed and conceived."

Failure to ground theology in first-hand experience of God means to risk false, deceptive, secondary conclusions: "Whenever piety is directed only by an ingenious, complicated intellectuality and conceptuality, with highly complicated theological tenets, it is really a pseudo-piety, however profound it may seem."

Amen. Intellectualism is a temptation for me, which, again, is why I feel so drawn to being formed by the community of spiritual directors at San Francisco Theological Seminary.

Long ago, Qoheleth warned, "Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh" (Eccl 12:12), but there is hope of salvation in "the mysticism of everyday life, the discovery of God in all things."

My program begins at SFTS in about a month. As I begin to tie-up loose ends for 2006, I am beginning to get excited about this three-week intensive experience in spiritual direction. I am also reveling in the promise and hope of Advent possibility in this four-week pilgrimage toward Christmas.

My most recent reading for the DASD program is first two chapters of Karl Rahner's Encounters with Silence: "God of My Life" and "God of My Lord Jesus Christ." One theme in his writing is the struggle of making structural and systemic changes. It is relatively easy to transform one's own life to be more contemplative, but much more difficult to transform an institution...like a church. But there are many ways of being Christian, and I am called to shape the church in Christ's image -- not in my image. Nevertheless, I have found contemplative practices to be life-giving, and small changes in the children's ministry (using the Awareness Examen), youth ministry (forming an adult ministry team), and worship planning (practicing lectio divina) have already been made. I hope to have an even better vision for making further changes after my time at SFTS.

Rahner also addresses the dilemma of balancing the revelation of God's Love with the experience of God's Mystery. In other words, if God is ultimately experienced as Holy Mystery, how can we even be sure that "God is love" all the way down -- especially God as revealed in the life of Jesus. Rahner prays not to know the whole truth: "Don't tell me everything that You are; don't tell me of Your Infinity -- just say that you love me, just tell me of Your Goodness to me. But don't say this in Your divine language, in which Your Love also means Your inexorable Justice and Your crushing Power -- say it rather in my language [such as the "abbreviated" word of the incarnation], so that I won't have to be afraid that the word love hides some significance other than Your Goodness and gentle Mercy." The risk, of course, of such a path for liberals is that their focus on God's love may just be sentimentality.

I'm not satisfied with such a self-imposed limitation, especially in a world increasingly aware of religious pluralism. I'm also not sure how tongue-in-cheek Rahner is being. But one reason I continue to be drawn to spiritual practices is that they call for theology to be more than theory; instead, words about God should arise from (or be verified by) actual experiences with God through contemplation -- in Rahner's nomenclature, "Encounters with Silence."

After a flurry of entries (mostly written on the flight to and from Baltimore for Tofu-rkey Day), I haven't posted in a number of days because I have been preparing for and acting in a play at church. My monologue was only around eight minutes, and we only had three performances; however, the activity of practicing and performing consumed most of my extra focus and intentionality. As a result, I did little contemplation, keeping of the hours, or reading.

I'm glad I did the play -- and a regular practice of contemplation probably helped with the active week of the play in ways that are difficult to identify -- but I am also glad that the play is over, Advent has arrived, and I have returned to a regular contemplative discipline. I'm also glad that I didn't forced myself to maintain all my spiritual practices on top of work for the play since doing so feels like it would have been unnecessary and, more importantly, un-graceful.