The limits of language: That which reveals also hides

The following is taken from “The Cathedral of The World: A Universalist Theology” pp 10-11 by Forrest Church

Above all else, contemplate the windows. In the Cathedral of the World there are windows beyond number, some long forgotten, covered with many patinas of grime, others revered by millions, the most sacred of shrines. Each in its own way is beautiful. Some are abstract, others representational; some dark and meditative, others bright and dazzling. Each window tells a story about the creation of the world, the meaning of history, the purpose of life, the nature of humankind, the mystery of death. The windows of the cathedral are where the light shines through.

Because the cathedral is so vast, our life so short, and our vision so dim, over the course of our pilgrimage we are able to contemplate only a bit of the cathedral, explore a few apses, reflect on the play of light and darkness through a few of its myriad windows. Yet by pondering and acting on our ruminations, we discover insights that will invest our days with meaning.

A twenty-first-century theology based on the concept of one light and many windows offers to its adherents both breadth and focus. Honouring multiple religious approaches, it only excludes the truth claims of absolutists. This is because fundamentalists claim that the light shines through their window only. Some, as we know from painful experience, go so far as to beseech their followers to throw stones through other people’s windows.

Skeptics draw the opposite conclusion. Seeing the bewildering variety of windows and observing the folly of the worshippers, they conclude that there is no light. But the windows are not the light. They are where the light shines through.

We shall never see the light directly, only as refracted through the windows of the cathedral. Prompting humility, life’s mystery lies hidden. The light is veiled. Yet, being halfway in size between the creation itself and our body’s smallest constituent part, that we can encompass with our minds the universe that encompasses us is a cause for great wonder. Awakened by the light, we stand in the cathedral, trembling with awe.

Some people have trouble believing in a God who looks into any eyes but theirs. Others have trouble believing in a God they cannot see. But that none of us can look directly into God’s eyes certainly doesn’t mean God isn’t there, mysterious, unknowable, gazing into ours through the windows of the Cathedral of the World”

...The above extract from Forrest Church's "The Cathedral of the World" puts beautifully into words my own understanding of my own universalism...Or at least it sheds a little light on it (Tee, hee, hee)

Each Sunday I attempt to communicate with with the beautiful people I serve, through the worship I create and lead. It does not come easy, sometimes I really struggle and I am never wholly satisfied with what comes out of my mouth. I can never put into words exactly what I am attempting to share and I know that it is never fully received from those who are engaged in this creative interchange. It is a challenge to find the right words, to touch the hard to reach places, to truly articulate the language of the heart.

It is the same when sitting with those who are suffering. To offer comfort in such times is impossible. All any of us can really do is be with one another. Prayer helps. I often use an adaption of the fear prayer “God please remove my fear and direct my attention to what you would have me be.” I’m not so much asking what to do, that can be tough to discern, but how to be is a whole different matter. I know how to be. I need to open my heart and hold space for others to be. The heaet transcends language.

People are often asked how do you feel? In reality it’s a difficult question to articulate, to put into words. Words are limited, they can never fully describe a feeling. Actually if truth be known when we communicate face to face we do not do so with only the words coming from our mouths. If you are anything like me, it will be written all over your face and in your body.

That said words are our primary form of communication, whether written or spoken. It is how we attempt to explain and pass on something. As soon as we do though we are already reducing the meaning of what we are articulating. Yes people can relate, but they cannot experience exactly what another person has or does experience. If you don’t believe me go and ask a friend to look out of window with you and describe what they see. I will bet you anything that what you share will not be exactly the same.

Now of course some communication is intuitive, some people are better at connecting than others this way. There are some people that we connect with on this level easier than with others too. There are people in my life who have and I do connect and communicate with on a deeper heart level, way beneath the limits of language and words. As I look back at my life I can remember moments, situations and people for whom words were not required, the connection was and is heart to heart.

There are also times when something happens and you are just completely lost for words. It is ok you know, I have been many times in my life. This is humble, it is human and the truth is there is a limit to what we can say about anything and everything.

Words have their limit. There is a gap between experience, process, articulation and receiving of words depicting experience. By the time we put it into words the experience has already been reduced greatly. The great twentieth century theologian Paul Tillich had an interesting take on the limit of language to describe ones faith. He claimed that whatever reveals “Ultimate Reality” also hides it. I think it applies to all aspects of truth. Whatever we do to communicate truth will reveal aspects of it, but not fully. I’m not sure it is possible for any of us see the light of truth absolutely, we always see it through lenses. We never see anything absolutely and as soon as we attempt to articulate the meaning something gets lost in translation. We understand things through the lens of our culture and upbringing and we communicate it through this even more so. It is important to remember this. It certainly humbles me.

I was recently talking with someone who I feel it easy to communicate with, very much on a heart to hear level. There is quite a lot of synchronicity between us, which always delights me. During the conversation they asked me about the process of creating and sharing worship. A difficult question to articulate, as my muses are wide and varied. In many ways I just seem to stitch things together, but loosely, a kind of patchwork quilt really. I also explained that the sermons I deliver are less and less what I actually write. They are of course variations on a theme, but never what I initially write.

In spiritual matters sometimes words, language and understanding can actually get in the way. I remember many years ago when I was exploring ways to develop meditative practices I found the Brahma Kumaris. They practise a beautiful form of Raj Yoga meditation, which is open eyed and in principle is about focusing on light and love. I practised with them for many months and it helped me hugely. I still practise the methods today and can easily connect to those beautiful places deep within my being and all being. As in most things I was very enthusiastic and wanted to know more. The problem was that when I got into the theology and the imagery beneath the practise I found it impossible to follow. I suspect I took it too literally and not as mythos as a way of revealing deeper truth, rather than absolute truth. I was not so spiritually mature at the time and actually soon stopped practising with them. I feel a little sadness about this today as I wish I hadn’t got so lost in the images and the words and instead had just been happy with the practise. Why did I need to understand and articulate what I was experiencing? Why did I have to allow the literal and reductionist mind I had those days lead me away from aspects of this beautiful practise?

God only knows!

As I grown older, and a little wiser I hope, I have developed a growing love for poetry. There is a deep truth to poetry it speaks a language that allows the limit of words to go deeper. It seems to reveal far more than it hides, W.S, Merwin claims that poetry is “the expression of faith in the integrity of the senses and of the imagination.” It speaks a deeper truth. Perhaps a universal truth, it is mythos. As Stanley Kunitz has said, poetry is 'the most difficult, most solitary, and most life-enhancing thing that one can do. It's a struggle because words get tired. We use them. We abuse them. A word is a utilitarian tool to begin with, and we have to re-create it, to make it magical. You have to kill off all the top of one's head, remove it, and try to plunge deep into self, deep into memories, deep into the unconscious life. And then begin again.'

Poetry though frustrates people because it uses words illiterally, it tells the truth slant as the poem suggested that truth should be spoken.

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind --

Now as many folks know one of my ministerial inspirations has been the writing of Forrest Church, who I only discovered shortly after he actually died. He speaks a language that hits my heart. He articulates something that makes sense to my head, heart and soul. I particularly love his view of faith and his attempt to articulate a metaphor for 21st century Universalism, a humble and a real approach to faith. This "blogspot" began with an extract from it.

His image of “The Cathedral of the World” is asking us to imagine the whole of humanity standing under the ceiling of the cathedral of the world. Around this cathedral are millions of stained glass windows. There is a light outside of the cathedral shinning through all of the windows; this is the light of truth, the light of God. No one inside is able to stare at the light directly, we all see it passing through a stained glass window. Each of the windows distorts the light in some way; they only allow some of the light to pass through. Sometimes the light is refracted, by the tinted windows and occasionally it is blocked by the opaque aspects of each window. In some places the light is almost completely obscured. By the way the light is not only coming into us from the outside the windows, but also from ourselves shinning out to the window. The light is in us too.

This metaphor is an attempt to describe a 21st century Universalist theology, one that speaks to the heart of me. There is one light outside of the window but there are many windows through which we can get a glimpse of the light. Each window is unique in its own way; each window is different; but none gives us a perfect image of the light. Each window is representing different religions, different ideologies, different philosophies, different dogmas, different views about life, the universe, everything. The key is to understand that each window has been fashioned by human hands, often with great skill, imagination, beauty, intelligence and artfulness that said through no one window is the light seen perfectly.

From where we view our particular perspective on the light we can begin to believe that what we see is the absolute truth and that the light only shines through our window. That only our window offers the true representation of the light. That what others see through their window is false, even stupid and irrational. Forrest Church’s Universalism though is saying something very different. He is saying that each window conveys part of the truth and that no one window has a monopoly on the truth. He is echoing those words of Paul Tillich, “that which reveals also hides”.

I think it is important to accept that none of us ever glimpses the whole truth, no matter which window we are looking through. Even if for s pit secend we could, we could never fully articulate this. Two people looking through the very same window can see something different or perhaps their attempts to put into exactly what they are experiencing may be very different. How on earth do any of us articulate this?

This humbles me, as most conversations I have with others about their faith humbles me. Humility is always the key by the way. This teaches us that we can only glimpse the truth and we can never make complete sense of what we see or ever adequately articulate it. Now the wonderful thing about this is that by genuinely accepting it we are opened up to a myriad of possibility that we probably believed were way beyond our capacity to experience. If we listen to one another lovingly we may just find a greater truth, if we can but just lay aside what we think we know, our prejudices.

The epistle Paul hints at this in his letter to the Corinthians (1ch 13), those beautiful words on love and charity. Here Paul gets to the very nature of humility when he says, “for now we see through a glass darkly”. He is making the point that even when our knowledge and understanding is not perfect, which I suspect, it never can be, we cannot go wrong if we follow love without prejudice as a guide. Love without prejudice is a universal principle found in virtually every one of the windows that the light is pouring through, it seems that the only ones not preaching it are the ones who are trying to throw rocks through the windows that others experience the light through. Not a different light, but a slightly different view and understanding of the light.

Universalism is a way of openness of truth seeking and love experiencing. They are not perfect though and they also glimpse the light imperfectly.

What’s the light like, that shines through your window?

This is my attempt to articulate something that is almost impossible. This is not easy. I hope it has helped you in some way to open you to the light which ever window you look through and attempt to share that with those you share your lives with and thus live more loving and charitable lives.

Let love continue long and show to us the way, it shines through every window.

Let it’s warmth transform us.

Silence is Golden

Four monks decided to meditate silently without speaking for two weeks. By nightfall on the first day, the candle began to flicker and then went out. The first monk said, “Oh, no! The candle is out” The second monk said, “Aren’t we not suppose to talk?” The third monk said, “Why must you two break the silence?” The fourth monk laughed and said, “Ha! I’m the only one who didn’t speak.”


While silence sounds simple, it is far from easy and don't we all like to point out when others fall short of the mark...we all break the silence...

I have fond memories of childhood birthday party games when quite often we would play sleeping lions or statues or silence. We became very competitive over these games. We reacted just like those four monks. As soon as someone made a noise, we would begin one by one to point out that they had broken the silence. Yep I have no doubt that a six year is at least if not more enlightened than any monk. To be still and to be silent is no easy task for anyone, whether you are child who's eaten too much sugar or a monk in search of enlightenment.

During a recent session of the “12 Steps to a Compassionate Life” reading group I decided to give space for silence. We were looking at the fifth step “Mindfullness”.  There has been a lot of lively and intimate conversations during these groups and we have spent a long time listening to one another. In this step it is suggested that we invite someone to lead the group in mindfulness meditation but I decided to keep it simpler and thought we would benefit from sitting in silence together, if only for ten minutes. It went well, we all gained from that time and I believe that it enabled us to engage more deeply for the rest of the session. The space enabled us to listen to one another, to follow Kahlil Gibran’s direction and “Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear.”

Before I began attending Unitarian worship I explored a variety of other religious communities. I attended several churches, meditation at local Brahma Kumaris and Buddhist centres, as well as Quaker meeting for worship. I had become a bit of a religious tourist I suppose. I was also reading lots of “New Age” literature such as the “Conversations With God” series by Neale Donald Walsch, “The Power of Now” by Ekhart Tolle and other similar writers. I was trying to make sense of the life transforming spiritual experiences that had occurred over a period of a few months. I settled on the Quakers for a while, I liked where they were coming from, their approach to religion, which seemed very open and humble. After a while I sensed that something just didn’t feel right about it though. I wanted to do something, I wanted to be involved, I wanted to sing and move perhaps. Maybe something was quaking inside, perhaps if I’d allowed this to flow free I may never have discovered Unitarianism, but I did not. I did not wander down that road. Instead I continued to search and discovered Cross Street Chapel in Manchester and the rest is history. The ethos and approach to religion I found there was very similar to the Quakers and yet somehow I found Unitarian worship more engaging. There was focus, if a varied one, that I was able to relate to. I also rediscovered my voice during worship, I began to sing again. When I sing I feel oh so close to God, this seemed to be missing in Quaker worship. I know today that I am just too noisy and energetic to be a Quaker.

By the way this is in no way a criticism of the Quakers, who are the most beautiful people; I just know that I am not one. I also believe that silence has a vital role in worship. We share a time of communal silence each Sunday during worship. I lead a regular singing meditation, which is about the sharing and intermingling of of the human voice and silence. I engage with other forms of meditation too, both with others and on my own. I love silence; I love stillness. I truly appreciate those words from the 46th Psalm “Be still and know that I am God”. This is an internal experience I believe; it’s about faith and trust. It is serenity; it is calm in the storm. Meditative practise helps me develop this stillness in my daily life. It helps me to be present, it helps me to connect.

 Many people find silence challenging, especially extended periods in company with others. How do you feel when you sit with people and suddenly everything goes quiet? How do you feel when no one speaks? It’s uncomfortable isn’t it? We want someone to break the silence and of course usually someone does so, with an anxious or awkward remark.

Silence is vital and we need not fear it, instead we should befriend it, we need not fill the space between our bodies or our words.

I have learnt, over the past few years, to befriend the silence. I have to say that at first I found it embarrassing, rather silly actually, but then I did not really understand its purpose. I had a very busy mind in those days and I did not like the thoughts that would often appear. In time those thoughts settled, became manageable and the silence began to speak to me. I found these moments of silence inspirational. I found clarity and the ability to make sane decisions in the silence. I believe that during this time my connection to God, to the ground of all being, to that which runs through and connects all life, developed in the space of silence. The still small voice voice of conscience deep within began to develop during this time. What the Quakers describe as “That of God in everyone”

During the Gospel accounts there are several depictions of Jesus going off on his own, to pray, to embrace silence. At the beginning of his ministry he spends 40 days and nights in the wilderness alone, where he comes face to face with temptation. In Mark 10 vv 30-46, Jesus spends time preaching, teaching and then feeding the crowd that gathered around him. It is worth noting that before he does so he and the disciples attempt to spend time in solitude and afterwards he goes off to pray alone. It would seem that he knew that to be of service to and for others he had to spend time alone, he needed to nourish himself spiritually.

The great sages understood the need for silence. The Sufi mystical poet Rumi wrote “Silence is the root of everything...if you spiral into its void, a hundred voices will thunder messages you long to hear.” Kahlil Gibran said “silence is painful, but in silence things take form, and we must wait and watch. In us, in our secret depth, lies the knowing element which sees and hears that which we do not see nor hear. All our perception, all the things we have done, all that we are today, dwelt once in that knowing, silent depth, that treasure chamber in the soul. And we are more than we think. We are more than we know. That which is more than we think and know is always seeking and adding to itself while we are doing -  or think we are doing -  nothing. But to be conscious of what is going on in our depth is to help it along. When sub-consciousness becomes consciousness, the seeds in our winter-clad selves turn to flowers, and the silent life in us sings with all its might.”

“Silence is Golden” it is so vital to the active life. We all need time alone, in silence, in solitude; a time to commune with that greater reality, a time alone with God; a time alone with our deeper selves. Prayer and meditation is as vital to me today as air, food and water. My body and mind cannot function without these elements; my body and mind cannot maintain good health without my soul being fed by prayer and meditation.

The spiritual and religious life has to be both active and open. To give ourselves fully to the lives we live, we need to ensure that we ourselves are in fit spiritual condition. Therefore like the great sages sometimes we all need to wander off into the wilderness, commune with our God and feed our souls.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,

Till all our strivings cease;

Take from our souls the strain and stress,

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of Thy peace.

Hope not Hate: A Universalists Response

“You may possess only a small light, but uncover it, let it shine, use it in order to bring more light and understanding to the hearts and minds of men and women. Give them not Hell, but hope and courage.  Do not push them deeper into their theological despair, but preach the kindness and everlasting love of God.”

John Murray

These word’s by John Murray have been ringing in my ears these last few days.

We need hope more than anything at this moment and we need courage. We are all being challenged by despair and at times hatred.

We have all witnessed the rioting and looting and wanton destruction in some of our cities, although not all. Watching the news last week you would think the whole country had gone up in smoke, when in truth it was isolated to certain areas.

We all witnessed the horror of the gunning down of children in Norway; we have seen the phone hacking scandal and the corruption of journalist, the metropolitan police as well as politicians and public figures; we continue to see war and conflict in north Africa, violence in the middle east and famine in the Sudan, exacerbated by its own government;

We have seen the death of a talented singer, to the disease of addiction. It would be so easy to turn away and give up on life...I know I have been tempted to do so from time to time.

I have also felt, as I am sure we all feel sometimes, the need to condemn to blame to turn again to hate. And then I look in the mirror and remember the words of Jesus “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”; and then I have to be honest and say that yes I too have hated and I too have hurt others. This is not me condoning what has happened, just remembering that I share a common humanity with these rioting youths and corrupt politicians, and terrorists and journalists and soldiers, and addicts and the homeless and the mentally ill. I could be anyone of them and know at times I have been some of them. I have certainly lived in despair and perhaps even hated enough to kill. I am human I am not immune from such emotions, I share a common humanity with these very same people. We all do.

In the very same cities where the violence erupted we have seen people coming together; people from all walks of life, at one, in community. There have been peace vigils in all the major cities where rioting took place; people from all walks of life, sharing in their common humanity.

I would imagine only someone completely lost in their own hatred could have failed to have been moved by the example of Tariq Jehan, father of one of the three young man who were mowed down in Birmingham attempting to protect their community. This man did not speak of retribution or reprisal; yes he obviously wants justice, but not revenge. Instead he spoke of our common humanity and the need for communities to come together. Here is a man of faith and love and compassion and his light has definitely shone brighter than any flame this week.

The Norwegian response to the killing of 77 people, 69 of them young activist on a summer camp is another example of hope triumphing over hate. What do we see from Norway’s politicians? We see them uniting together in partisanship for the coming election. The aim of the killer was to attack Norwegian multi-culturalism and tear the nation apart. How have the people responded? They have come together in unity and mutual support in response to the violence and horror. It will not bring the lost lives back, of course it will not, but it would seem that love and hope is prevailing in the aftermath of such horror.  

It would be easy to despair at humanity and yet I see hope everywhere.

I am a Universalist, in both the old meaning of the word and it’s more modern incarnations. I both believe and experience a God of love who accepts all and rejects none; is present in all life and yet is greater than the entirety of all. I also believe that there are many ways to understand and experience this universal love. I do not believe that there is only one way. Universalism has given me a code of hopefulness that I can live by. It sustains me through the vicissitudes of life.

My Universalism is a living breathing faith and helps me make some sense of the world in which I live. It helps me to make some sense of both hope and despair, emotions that are with us all. Universalism does not separate them. They are joined at the hip; they are like Siamese twins, who depend on one another for life.

In the French language hope (espair) and despair (desespair) share the same root. From this it seems reasonable to conclude that the opposite of hope is not actually despair but indifference. Indifference is to live without feeling or passion or care, to fail to respond to the pain and or suffering around, to deny our link to one another, to fail to feel another’s pain, to care less. Yes people in the midst of despair struggle and may even want to give up, but they keep on, hope is never too far away. Hope and despair are two branches formed from the same root of the one tree.

Universalism is a hope filled faith, but that does not make it an easy path. It is not about sitting back and waiting to be rescued by the God of Love it promotes. Instead it declares that salvation, in this life, can only be achieved by facing up to the suffering present in all our lives and dealing directly with the despair that accompanies it.

There are those who accuse we hope filled Universalists as being nothing more than “Pollyanna’s”, I have had this accusation thrown at me. Is this true? I certainly do not deny the pain of life, quite the opposite I have learnt that love and beauty can only truly be found in the very muck of life itself, this is where the pearls and diamonds are found. Hope is found through honestly living through the vicissitudes of life.

We are all responsible for creating the world in which we live. We bought the newspapers that tapped into the phones of people; we all played our role in creating the current financial crisis. can any one of us truly claim innocence? I know that I can not.

I believe that the Brahma Kumaris hit the nail on the head in this recent public response to the rioting:

“Greed, inhumanity, and lack of integrity in the pursuit of financial or political gain are hardly the preserve of the young rioters. Young people are particularly susceptible to the myth peddled to them by society that happiness lies in material gain; this has left a huge vacuum inside with nothing to fill it.”

We can all point the finger and blame others for the current state we are in, but we all share a common humanity. We are all responsible for the state we are. I will certainly hold my hand up and accept my responsibility. Therefore we are all responsible for the solution, which has already begun by communities coming together. In the very despair of our current situation there is hope.

I have felt incredible sadness at times these last few weeks as I have witnesses the many horrors we inflict on one another, but I live with hope which I believe can fill the vacuum in our world. I will not turn away and sink into depression, which these days I understand differently to sadness.

Sadness is an emotion which any fully connected and therefore awakened human being must feel. If a person never feels sadness or pain, then they never feel love either. Depression on the other hand is something very different. More often than not it is the result of becoming trapped in self pity or crippled by despondency. Sadness is a naturally occurring irremovable part of our humanity, where as depression can be lessened and even totally eliminated, if correctly treated. Sadness can bring us together in our shared humanity, where as depression keeps us apart and in isolation. Sadness breeds hope; depression suffocates it.

Sadness is an emotion that we need as we look out at some of the terrible destruction and corruption witnessed over these last few weeks. It is an emotion I myself have felt many times, but it has not brought with it hopelessness. I have also felt it during conversations with those nearest and dearest to me; people struggling with the pain of their own lives. I have tried to be with my loved one’s but I have not found it easy at times and I know that I have failed them on occasion, I am not immune from diffidence. Sometimes other people’s pain can be just too much.

I also know what it is like to live without hope. I have been the slave of addiction and I have been constrained and trapped by depression. I have hated myself and I have hated my world, but not anymore. I have found love and I have found hope, in the midst of despair. I found it by searching the through the muck of my own life. That great reality deep down within every single one of us.

So to echo, but to slightly alter, the sentiments of John Murray. Let’s give our world hope and not hate. Let’s follow the examples all around us in our own cities and our towns, lets live lives of love and connection.

Love will prevail...

“What the world needs now, is love sweet love”