My favourite “modern” Christmas song is, “Fairytale of New York,” by the Pogues. I have it not on disc, but listen every Christmas Eve on YouTube. If I had to explain why I so love it, the spell would be broken. Suffice to say, it is perfect in its kind. There are people, even in New York, and these days even in Ireland, who can make no sense of it. This is their constitutional right. But there ought to be a law to prevent it from being “covered” or re-recorded.
He reminds me how much I love the song also. I'll add that Shane MacGowan always had this way about him as to how he wears his struggle on his sleeve (yes, he's had his share of demons), but with enough self-awareness to know it has its part in purifying human fallibility. It could be an Irish-thing too. Definitely in agreement with David here:
Sorry Star Wars fans, this post is not specifically for you. It's a trojan horse as to how to relate to real evil. We don't like the word evil very much these days. It's too objective and judgmental for our cultural sensibilities. Yet, evil (or darkness beyond the psychological) really exists. Even Jung didn't quite get it right, as he just saw evil as complementary to the good. That's mostly because he didn't believe in an Ultimate good beyond man (he came to regret his television interview response as to whether or not he believed in God: “I don’t need to believe, I know.”). Coincidentally, George Lucas was influenced by Jung's harmonious balance between lightness and darkness. That made for a good sci-fi romp, but it added little to good theology. As William Wildwood says, “Good is good and evil is evil and there can be no alliance between them... Evil must be overcome not integrated either outwardly in the world or, especially, inwardly in oneself.” The tricky thing for people these days is to truly discern what evil is. In any case, real evil is beyond the scope of anything we can resolve by ourselves. Bob recently got an email asking him “advice on how a Christian is supposed to love our zombie invaders.” He then replied with a Top 10 in the comments section that I thought was worth re-posting. More so, because I see this an inventory of profundity to deal with general evil in the world. I interject a few thoughts in brackets: #10: The world is your challenge, precisely. Let the world be the world, because that is what it is always going to be anyway. Your task is to participate in it, but from a transcendent point of view. If you think we're f*cked now, you are correct. But history teaches that this has always been the case. [As the Chinese alluded, we are always living in interesting times. But at least today, the phones keep getting better.] #9: Always be practicing karma yoga, which means engaging in good works for their own sake, while renouncing any fruit thereof. Don't be good for a reward -- otherworldly or thiswise -- but because you love virtue. #8: In the long run, all the idiocy in the world tends to cancel out. #7: Davila: “Christianity does not solve 'problems'; it merely obliges us to live them at a higher level.” #6: God himself is crucified in and by history. That's called a hint. And “you shall be persecuted for my sake.” #5: Abandon mere horizontal hope and try to see things from the perspective of eternity. [I'm reading a terrific book on the Inklings, and it appears Tolkien used imagination beyond the everyday world to give readers an escape from death and the resolution of eucatastrophe to offer vertical hope.] #4: You can't change yourself. What makes you think you can change the world? However, this doesn't mean change doesn't take place. Unexpected vertical interventions are everywhere. [Bob elaborates on this: “You might say that man is a necessary but not sufficient cause of his own betterment.” Or in other words, we must take responsibility for our change through effort, but real change can only come from grace.] #3: There are no solutions, only trade-offs. [So much for the experts.] #2: Don't worry, it will all be over soon. Practice transcendental humor. Life is ridiculous. Don't wait until you are sick and dying before you realize this, but live your terrestrial life in light of its end. [Peter Kreeft said it best: “Life is neither a tragedy nor a comedy but a tragicomedy. If we do not both laugh and cry at life, we do not understand it.”] #1: Nothing is possible without God, without whom you are condemned to an absurcular existence, devoid of liberating graces from above. Aspiration, rejection (of unreality), and surrender are the keys. You cannot lift yourself by your own buddhastraps, so the sooner you turn yourself in and surrender peacefully, the better. [Or maybe this could be summed up in three short verses from 1 Thessalonians 5: Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks.]
I can sympathize with the syncretic endeavor in religion. It reaches out to see the patterned relationship in all things to cohere an elegant map that simplifies all the roads to God. That's what drew me to Wilber, Almaas, and Schuon. But like any 'ism, perennialism has its share of cracks in the foundation. Jorge Ferrer recently gave a compelling talk that makes this point explicitly.
Is this Reality?
So what's the issue with perennialism, neo- or otherwise? It comes down to spiritual ultimate and goals are not all valued equally in the major traditions. Some value awareness, some the Trinity, others more embodiment. Where I don't agree with Ferrer is his concern for sectarianism (or spiritual elitism) becomes pernicious. Yet, he clearly espouses a participatory framework that is very relational, and some metaphysical systems are clearly more relational than others. If we can't reconcile it all in a neat little bow, let's not diminish quality when we see it. (In my view, the ultimate is relational. But that's another story for another time.) Alasdair MacIntyre noted the need to situate oneself in tradition to know the standards of the tradition. In other words, you can't find a universal standard by which to measure traditions’ rightness. The standards are always internal to a tradition and therefore requires membership in that community, making a syncretic approach to all traditions untenable. As they say, if you believe in everything equally, you essentially believe in nothing. MacIntyre argues that philosophy in general and ethics in particular cannot proceed by means of reasoning from neutral, self-evident facts accepted by all rational persons. And if our philosophical/ethical communities are incommensurable, then we need to accept that any attempt at perennialism will also fall short. So maybe we can't create a synthesis of the Religion of Tomorrow. But taking Ferrer's and MacIntyre's perspective into account, it may be we are best served by situating ourselves at home in one path or possibly some hybridization approach. Truth and method can come from different traditions, but not all the traditions. (I've always contended to be open to Truth wherever it can be found.) Moreover, being in a tradition does not have to compromise our ability to hold a critical eye towards it. We can always have both a keen sense of irony and reverence towards any rock we stand on. But I will leave with a quote from Nikos Kazantzakis that Ferrer mentions in his presentation that gets to heart of the matter of the perennial problem:
Within me even the most metaphysical problem takes on a warm physical body which smells of sea, soil, and human sweat. The Word, in order to touch me, must become warm flesh. Only then do I understand — when I can smell, see, touch.
