“Exploring Disorder”

Rev. Dennis Ryle 30/08/2020

Readings - Exodus 3:13-15, Matthew 16:21-28

Dennis would like to acknowledge the great impact and influence of Father Richard Rohr, Rex Hunt and Alexander Shaia on his reflections.

The Peoples of the Book, the three faiths of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, look to the Garden of Eden as the ultimate example of Order. As much as we abhor literalistic understandings of this foundational story, we cannot ignore its archetypal reach. In this passage, theologian and mystic Howard Thurman (1900–1981) explores the creative tension that exists between innocence and knowledge, each honouring the other.

The setting is the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve are the central figures in an idyllic surrounding. All is peaceful. All is innocent. They are told by God that they are free to do anything except one thing. They are forbidden to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge which grows in the midst of the garden [Genesis 2:16–17]. For if they eat of the fruit they shall be driven from the garden and from that day forward they shall be responsible for their own lives. They eat of the fruit; they are driven out of the garden; they become responsible for their own lives. With the coming of knowledge, they have lost their innocence.

The transition from innocence to knowledge is always perilous and fraught with hazard. There is something very comforting and reassuring about innocence. To dwell in innocence is to inhabit a region where storms do not come and where all the breezes are gentle and balmy. It is to live in the calm of the eye of the hurricane. It is to live in a static environment which makes upon the individual no demands other than to be. All else is cared for; is guaranteed.

But when knowledge comes, the whole world is turned upside down. The meaning of things begins to emerge. And more importantly, the relations between things are seen for the first time. Questions are asked and answers are sought. A strange restlessness comes over the spirit and the enormity of error moves over the horizon like a vast shadow. Struggle emerges as the way of life. An appetite is awakened that can never be satisfied. A person becomes conscious of one’s self; the urge to know, to understand, to find answers, turns inward. Every estimate of others becomes a question of self-estimate, every judgment upon life becomes a self-judgment. The question of the meaning of one’s self becomes one with the meaning of life.

This process of moving from innocence to knowledge is never finished. Always there is the realm of innocence, always there is some area of innocence untouched by knowledge. The more profound the growth of knowledge, the more aware the individual becomes of the dimensions of innocence. Pride in knowledge is always tempered by the dominion of innocence.

Rohr: Thurman offers here a wonderful description of the first stage of Order and a poetic, accurate account of early forays into Disorder. Surely moving between these two polarities is part of the Divine Dance.

Moses is awoken from the lonely daily torpor of shepherding to a new awareness of the insistence of the divine. That insistence is as close as his breathing, for indeed the identitity of the divine is in his very breath – YHWH – “I am being who I am being.” This insistence is going to send him, in spite of himself, to confrontations with the most powerful human being in the region, Pharaoh, in order to free the Hebrew population from oppression and lead them to their destiny. Full of doubt and misapprehension, Moses sets off into his new world of disorder.

Simon joins Jesus and his fellow disciples on an excursion to the Golan Heights, that picturesque destination where the small but popular tourist town of Caesarea Philippi nestles. It is a place of pilgrimage for the followers of Pan, the nature god of both Greek and roman pantheons. There’s a cave system there known locally as “the Gates of Hell” because of the deep bottomless chasms found there. Not to be outdone, the Emperor Augustus also had a shrine to himself established with the inscription “Caesar Augustus, Son of God.” Sitting with their picnic lunch on a hillside overlooking all this, Jesus in conversation poses the ultimate question “Who do say I am?” Simon answers, “You are the Christ (the Chosen One), the Son of

God.” Jesus praises him, renames him Peter (the Rock), declares he will build his church on such rock, and the Gates of Hell will not prevail against it. Then he spells out the costly implications for him and his disciples. Peter won’t hear of it and seeks to prevent him. Jesus harshly rebukes him. Is the Rock about to become sand? Peter ands the others are introduced to the paradox of disorder. Apparently one must lose one’s life in order to save it!

Such is the journey of human pilgrimage. Just when we think we have things nicely in order, we are plunged into an experience of disorder. And we can stay there a long time.

Richard Rohr:

It Must Happen to Us

Sooner or later … some event, person, death, idea, or relationship will enter our lives that we simply cannot deal with using our present skill set, our acquired knowledge, or our strong willpower. It will probably have to do with one of what (Rohr) calls the Big Six: love, death, suffering, sexuality, infinity, and God [I would add security – Moses and Peter]. … we will be led to the edge of our own private resources. At that point we will stumble over a necessary stumbling stone, as Isaiah calls it (8:14). We will and must “lose” at something. This is the only way that Life–Fate–God–Grace–Mystery can get us to change, let go of our egocentric preoccupations, and go on the further and larger journey.

There is no practical or compelling reason to leave one’s present comfort zone in life. If it’s working for us, why would we? Nor can we force ourselves into this second stage of disorder (though we must certainly be open to it). Any conscious attempt to engineer or plan our own enlightenment is doomed to failure because it will be ego driven. We will try to “succeed” in the midst of our failure and “order” our time in disorder! But unexpected weaknesses, failure, and humiliation force us to go where we never would otherwise. We must stumble and be brought to our knees by reality. “God comes to you disguised as your life,” as Rohr’s friend Paula D’Arcy wisely says.

There must be, and if we are honest, there always will be at least one situation in our lives that we cannot fix, control, explain, change, or even understand. Normally a job, a fortune, or a reputation has to be lost, a house has to be flooded, an illness has to be endured. Some kind of falling, what Rohr calls “necessary suffering,” is programmed into the journey. By denying our pain or avoiding our necessary falling, many of us have kept ourselves from our own spiritual depths. We still want some kind of order and reason, instead of suffering life’s inherent disorder and tragedy.

And so Moses resists the insistent summons to go to Pharaoh and Peter stands in Jesus’ way as Jesus turns to lead his yeshiva towards Jerusalem. Each prefers the security of the known uncomfortable order to the risk and danger of unknown disorder. We know enough of how their narratives panned out to realise that it is only embracing disorder that the process of transformation can continue.

Reorder

Only the whole self is ever ready for the whole God, so Reorder always involves moving beyond the dualistic mind toward a more spacious, contemplative knowing.

[Karen has led you on a journey of vulnerability and reflection that has us embracing not a choice between Science and Faith but an integration that includes Science & Faith as synchronous and complementary.]

In fact, if we are going to rebuild society, we first need to be rebuilt ourselves. A healthy psyche lives within at least three levels of meaning. We might imagine three domes, or containers. The first and smallest dome is called My Story, the second larger dome is Our Story, and the third and largest dome is The Story.

In the first dome is my private life: those issues that make me special, inferior or superior, right or wrong, depending on how “I” see it. “I” and my feelings and opinions are the reference points for everything. Jesus teaches that we must let go of exactly this, and yet this is the very tiny and false self that contemporary people take as normative, and even sufficient.

The next realm of meaning is about Us. Our Story is the dome of our group, our community, our country, our church—perhaps our nationality or ethnic group. These groups are the necessary training grounds for belonging, attaching, trusting, and loving. Unfortunately, some folks just spend their lives defending the boundaries and “glory” of their group. Group egocentricity is even more dangerous than personal egocentricity. It looks like greatness when it is often no more than disguised egotism. Loyalties at this level have driven most of human history—and most wars—up to now.

The third and largest dome of meaning is THE Story, the realm of universal meaning and the patterns that are always true in every culture. This level assures and insures the other two. It holds them together in sacred meaning. In fact, we could say that the greater the opposites we can hold together, the greater soul we usually have.

(Our spiritual tradition), at its best, honors and combines all three levels: personal journey as raw material, communal identity as school and training ground, and an encounter with true transcendence as the integration and gathering place for all the parts together. True transcendence frees us from the tyranny of I Am and the idolatry of We Are. Still, when all three are taken seriously, … we have a full life—fully human and fully divine.

The person who lives most of their life grounded within THE Story is the mystic, the prophet, the universal human, the saint, the whole one. These are the people who look out at the smaller picture with eyes as wide as saucers because they observe from the utterly big picture—with love. If we hope for societal reconstruction, it will come from people who can see reality at all three levels simultaneously, honoring the divine level and ultimately living inside of the great story line.

Alexander Shaia would probably want to draw our attention to the incompleteness of the Law of Three that ties things up in neat packages so that we can put them on the shelf, like trophies, polish them occasionally and say “There they are!” His four pathway understanding of gospel transformation even co0mes into play here. Order is where the invitation to embark on a pilgrimage of transformation begins (Matthew). Disorder takes us into Mark’s path of trial and suffering. John’s gospel gives us the third path of reorder and integration – an inviting place to draw the line and say we have arrived. But the journey winds on, and Shaia points to Luke’s pathway – our engagement with mature service which includes the openness to beginning the cycle all over again.

This is losing one’s life and paradoxically allowing life to be brought to fullness and wholeness. Moses never entered the fullness of the land of promise, he merely glimpsed it, but it was enough. Tradition tells us that Peter, in spite of repeated failures, served with distinction until his untimely end. In losing life he unleashed abundant life. It’s the rock on which we are founded.

Amen