Mysticism at the mall
Ross Douthat’s wonderful column yesterday explores the cheapening of mysticism via the mass market. Excerpt:
Mysticism is dying, and taking true religion with it. Monasteries have dwindled. Contemplative orders have declined. Our religious leaders no longer preach the renunciation of the world; our culture scoffs at the idea. The closest most Americans come to real asceticism is giving up chocolate, cappuccinos, or (in my own not-quite-Francis-of-Assisi case) meat for lunch for Lent.This, at least, is the stern message of Luke Timothy Johnson, writing in the latest issue of the Catholic journal Commonweal. As society has become steadily more materialistic, Johnson declares, our churches have followed suit, giving up on the ascetic and ecstatic aspects of religion and emphasizing only the more worldly expressions of faith. Conservative believers fixate on the culture wars, religious liberals preach social justice, and neither leaves room for what should be a central focus of religion — the quest for the numinous, the pursuit of the unnamable, the tremor of bliss and the dark night of the soul.
Before I get back to Ross, it’s worth taking a short detour through Luke Timothy Johnson’s essay, which argues that religion without mysticism is dead. He writes that yes, there is a grand battle today between the forces of religion and anti-religion. But:
More significant even than that struggle, though, is the clash occurring within religious traditions. The battle within each of the three great monotheistic religions is between the exoteric and esoteric versions of each. In my view, the contest is already so far advanced as virtually to be decided. But that is getting ahead of ourselves.As the name suggests, the exoteric focuses on external expressions of religion. Its concern is for the observance of divine commandments, the performance of public ritual, and the celebration of great festivals. In its desire for a common creed and practice, its tropism is toward religious law, and it seeks to shape a visible and moral society molded by such law. To form a visible community publicly obedient to divine command requires an explicit social vision, and exoteric religion is overtly political. The goal, after all, is the realization of the kingdom of God as an empirical reality; the point is religion in its public dimension.
The esoteric, in contrast, finds the point of religion less in external performance than in the inner experience and devotion of the heart; less in the public liturgy than in the individual’s search for God. The esoteric dimension of religion privileges the transforming effect of asceticism and prayer. It seeks an experience of the divine more intense, more personal, and more immediate than any made available by law or formal ritual. The esoteric element in religion finds expression above all in mysticism. Mystics pursue the inner reality of the relationship between humans and God: they long for true knowledge of what alone is ultimately real, and desire absolute love for what is alone infinitely desirable.
Johnson argues that healthy religion balances the mystical (esoteric) with the active (exoteric) dimensions … but that the mystical was suppressed for so long that it now re-emerges as a form of pop spirituality. But, he continues, the esoteric unanchored in an exoteric tradition (Christian, Jewish, Islamic) amounts to the spirituality of flibbertigibbets. (Or, as I would put it, a woo-woo gloss on Moralistic Therapeutic Deism). As Ross points out, though, just because true mysticism has been marginalized within formal religion doesn’t mean the hunger for contact with the numinous has disappeared. Pop mysticism is everywhere in our culture. The craving for it is real, and we are wrong to dismiss it or mock it outright. But we seem to content ourselves with satisfying that legitimate hunger with junk food. Here’s Ross:
By making mysticism more democratic, we’ve also made it more bourgeois, more comfortable, and more dilettantish. It’s become something we pursue as a complement to an upwardly mobile existence, rather than a radical alternative to the ladder of success. Going to yoga classes isn’t the same thing as becoming a yogi; spending a week in a retreat center doesn’t make me Thomas Merton or Thérèse of Lisieux. Our kind of mysticism is more likely to be a pleasant hobby than a transformative vocation.
Boy, does this ever speak to me. (Read the rest of the article on Beliefnet)










