Healing the Divide, Tenth Anniversary Edition: Recovering Christianity’s Mystic Roots

By Amos Smith, Leonard Sweet and Richard Rohr

Healing the Divide is a bold call to understand Jesus according to the earliest lineage of Christian Mystics--a call to transform our dualistic minds and heal a divided church. This book is a must read if you find yourself frustrated by the fundamentalist and new age polarization of twenty-first-century Christianity, bewildered by religious pluralism, or searching for Christianity's elusive mystic core.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wipf and Stock
• Release date: May 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385224104

Amos Smith

Amos Smith has a DMin from Chicago Theological Seminary and is a practicing Quaker (Friends General Conference), a long-term centering prayer practitioner, and a writer, workshop leader, and licensed therapist. He is also the author of Be Still and Listen (2018) and Holistic Mysticism (2023).

Book preview

Preface to Tenth Anniversary Edition

Since I wrote Healing the Divide ten years ago the world has become more polarized politically, Covid- 19 showed the international community our inability to effectively respond to pandemics, climate change has become an undeniable scientific reality that wreaks havoc and displaces people on a regular basis, ² and Christianity in the West has accelerated its decline with the rate of yearly church closures across denominations at an all-time high. In addition, an atmosphere of war has become normalized, the Russian-Ukraine War the prime example.

Now more than ever, we need cosmic glue, an integrative paradigm that can carry the holistic vision of the Desert Fathers and Mothers into future generations. That integrative paradigm is Jesus, as understood by the Alexandrian Mystics—Jesus, who is much more than a paradigm—who is nothing less than the theological and devotional fulcrum of Christian tradition. To understand Jesus, especially the contemplative Jesus, the mystical Jesus, is to understand Christianity. To misunderstand Jesus is to misunderstand Christian Tradition.

There are many books of Christian theology out there that focus on the windows of the Christian Cathedral, the ceiling tile, the cracks in the drywall. This is important stuff, yet Huston Smith and many other analysts of Christian Tradition agree that Jesus is the obvious center piece, the foundation of the Cathedral. If our vision of Jesus is deep, multi-faceted, and informed by holistic minds and hearts, then we can renovate the beloved Cathedral with grace.

In this preface it may be helpful to summarize what I have come to see as the root theology of Contemplative Christianity in general and Christian mysticism in particular: The Jesus Paradox (Miaphysite in Greek). The Jesus Paradox is the legacy of the Oriental Orthodox Church (not to be confused with Eastern Orthodoxy). It is as life giving as it is broad. It conserves the essence of the faith, while propagating rare and life-giving centrist notions, necessary for balance in today’s world. Incidentally, The Jesus Paradox may only be considered Orthodox to the Oriental Orthodox. Nevertheless it is considered acceptable neoorthodox theology in most Protestant and many Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches today.

As author William Shannon puts it, Christ is, quite literally, the ‘embodiment’ of contemplation, since His humanity is perfectly united to the Godhead.³ The Greek word Miaphysite means of one united nature. In other words, dynamic union, unification, or divine union of Divinity and humanity is perfect in Christ. We make progress toward this ultimate perfect union, but of course we will never achieve it in full. Yet, through years of centering prayer and contemplative arts we can experience some measure of what the Orthodox refer to as Christification or Deification. In other words, we can make progress toward unity with Christ in prayer and action.

Many world religions have a nondual mystical theology and Westerners have flocked to these traditions in recent decades. Yet, Christianity has its own nondual mystical theology, which is The Jesus Paradox. The essence of this nondual mystical theology is that, if we are believers, we can never refer to Jesus as human without qualifying this: the human incarnation of God. We can also never refer to Jesus as God, period, without qualifying this: God in human form. This dynamism creates space in our minds and opens us to creative tension and dynamism, instead of gridlock. This nondual mystical theology creates elasticity and helps us move beyond all pervasive television scripting and dualistic thinking. We come to see that sometimes losing is winning, and sometimes losing is winning. Or as Paul writes, "when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10).

The doorway into this state of mind is silent prayer. It is in stillness and silence that we move beyond dualistic words into the primordial stream of consciousness that undergirds all mental processes. This root consciousness is none other than The Kingdom of Heaven referred to throughout the Gospels. Centering Prayer authors such as Cynthia Bourgeault, have written that Kingdom of Heaven is really a metaphor for a state of consciousness.⁴ Why is this Kingdom of Heaven so desirable? Because it fills us with life-giving vitality and wholeness. Years of disciplined silences heals our nervous systems. Then, it makes us a non-anxious presence at home and at work. Then it helps us to see in wholes, rather than fragments. Instead of divide and conquer, we cooperate and embrace diversity within a larger unity.

In the face of so many pressing global calamities, why am I passionate about this theology? Because the untempered dualistic and judgmental mind created the messes and disparities in our world today. The dualistic mind excels at false superiority and false righteousness. What we need is humility and profound cooperation, which is only possible when we let go and are open to paradox and creative tension--both/and instead of either/or. The way we think matters. If we can think holistically about a subject we have a much better probability of offering a valuable contribution to it. If, on the other hand, our thinking is reductionist and compartmentalized, we are less likely to see with the clarity and precision necessary to apprehend Christian faith’s essence and delineate life-giving future pathways.

There is a double-edged threat to Christian theological tradition today. And with ever-increasing polarization in the world the threat is now exacerbated. The threat is that Christian theology will succumb to the extremes of rigid fundamentalism (a ten foot razor wire theological fence) or mushy new age (no theological fence). What we need in the twenty-first century is a chest-high fence that keeps out the coyotes, yet is low enough to allow neighborly dialogue. For me and many friends I have come to know throughout the world since I wrote Healing the Divide ten years ago, Christology’s most sane and balanced chest-high fence is The Jesus Paradox (Miaphysite in Greek).

Miaphysite essentially says that the Divinity and humanity of Jesus can never be separated. They cooperate like two sides of the same coin. The same is true of us. Our divinity (lower ase d) and humanity can never be separated. We need both to realize our full potential—to experience the exquisite cooperation of both the left and right hemispheres of our brains. The norm is lop-sidedness and the suppression of either science or intuition as the case may be. Yet, we need both for balance and synergy within, and the world needs both to solve its twenty-first century problems.

Jesus is the knothole through which we pull the rest of the Bible. For Christians, especially contemplative Christians, Jesus is our cypher through whom we interpret the whole of scripture. Ironically, Jesus is also the key to rooted life-giving forms of interfaith dialogue. For, once we are secure in Him and once He has taken deep root in our souls, we can talk to other faith traditions with integrity and good boundaries. The ship can sail out to see when it is confident of its anchor. Along these lines I celebrate the words of Huston Smith: "For Christians God is defined by Jesus, he is not confined to Jesus."⁵

So of the manifold interpreters of Jesus, who do we trust? For me there is no contest. The Alexandrian Mystics took silent prayer to new depths in the desert monasteries and skeets that flourished around Alexandria in the sixth century. Why are these mystics our best interpreters of Jesus? Because in the words of Evagrius, the fourth century desert solitary, if you truly pray you are a theologian. In other words the starting place for authentic theology is not academic degrees or ecclesial pedigree. Authentic theology begins and ends with experience. Evagrius and the desert tradition have always held that experience is sovereign. Belief systems, belonging systems, and academic credentials are all secondary to actual inner experience. I sometime refer to actual inner experience as Monastic Authority.

So what did Cyril of Alexandria, Severus of Antioch, and the Alexandrian Mystics say about Jesus? They said and wrote that Jesus was transcendent and eminent, eternal and temporal, absolute and relative, Creator and creature, Divine and sentient, Pre-existent and historical, God and human. If these two polarities can coexist and reach profound dynamism in Jesus they can do the same in us. In other words, we can reach the profound realization in silent prayer that the dominion of God is within me (Luke 17:20). We can experience God’s presence and action within as Thomas Keating was fond of saying. This is an achievement. It means we have moved past the dualistic notion of God out there somewhere and us far from God, separated by some chasm. We move from the notion of God as inaccessible up in the clouds somewhere to God accessible in our interior being. This is the true meaning of the incarnation—that God is with us (Matthew 1:22–23), which is the meaning of the name Immanuel. If we can put divinity and messy humanity together in our hearts and minds and experientially in prayer we are on the road toward integration and wholeness.

If we see ourselves as a mixture of divine and human aspects there is hope for our distracted, diffuse, fragmented minds. Then there is hope that we can cultivate the integrative depth to weather the double-edged technological marvels and the post-modern storms. The spark of divinity within is the key to our individual and collective transformation. This divinity remains dormant for most, but can be cultivated with extraordinary results.

Most people are caught in the world of binaries. Binary thinking in its extreme leads to fragmentation, rampant techno-screen addictions, the sex and money culture, and the further fragmentation of Western Christianity. The takeover of binary thinking begins in our youth. Most people have been heavily scripted from birth not to integrate knowledge, to keep everything compartmentalized. And people never conceive of putting polarities together. In order to satisfy the West’s overarching dualistic paradigm, so-called polarities belong on the two opposite ends of a line graph. Nature is opposite from civilization, male is divergent from female, and human and animal worlds represent opposite polarities. Yet, this is reductionist. What if it is possible for nature to be integrated with civilization like a Swiss farm, where there is a mutually beneficial comingling of the two? What if the most integrated people no longer hide, suppress, and deny their culturally perceived female or male attributes (anima and animus in Jungian Psychology). And what if we were to make peace with our mammalian and reptilian brains, instead of demonize them.

The West’s fixation on separating polarities along a line graph is disastrous. For, buyers and sellers are not opposite. In fact, both are part of one singular dynamic called the sale. Likewise the crest and trough of the swell compose on integrated dynamic called the wave. And divinity and humanity cannot be separated in Jesus or in us. They are a paradoxical dynamic. Jesus’ Divinity is appropriately written with a capital D and our divinity is written with a lowercase d. Yet, the point is humanity and divinity cannot be divided.

The spiral staircase serves as an analogy for the Jesus phenomena. At no point is the spiral cutoff. It simply ascends toward Divinity and descends toward humanity. The descent toward humanity Henry Nouwen (d. 1996) called downward mobility. The ascent toward God mirrors Jacob’s ladder in Genesis 28. We need the peak and the valley. We need both ends of the spire. We enter into communion with Christ in silent prayer in order to enter into solidarity with people in acts of service. The purely contemplative and the purely active life are both reductionist. The balance of the two moves mountains.

The dualistic mind wants to place divinity on Jesus—Jesus is on the altar in the communion host, in the glorious icon, in the holy writ of the Gospels. But what about the experience of the Christ light within! It is tidier and easier on our minds if we venerate Jesus embodied out there somewhere, in the chapel or on the altar. Then we are off the hook. We can remain in our humanity only. Then the humanity and the Divinity never meet. Yet this misses the point of the Gospels. And perhaps the Orthodox Church understands this best, hence the famous Orthodox phrase: Jesus became human so humans may become divine (deification). In other words, in sacred stillness and silence we discover the latent divinity within. Stillness and silence awaken it. It starts as the light of Christ, then years later becomes the mind of Christ (Philippians 2:5–8). Mind of Christ is another phrase for the Contemplative Mind. Then finally, if we have cultivated contemplative arts for decades, we may make progress toward Christification, like Anthony of Egypt and others.

The fact that many monks through the ages chose death rather than recant Miaphysite (The Jesus Paradox) clarifies its importance to the Christian Mystic. The Jesus Paradox counters the scripting of just about every youth, who learns about winners and losers, high class and low, beautiful and homely, by osmosis. The Jesus Paradox challenges all this. Instead of dismissing lepers out of hand, the mystic sees the value in all people and all manifestations of reality: ugly, sick, poor, loss-stricken. And this mirrors Jesus’ countercultural ministry and parables. And if we can invite the lepers back to the outskirts of the city, we can invite the lepers lurking in the corners of our minds back into the fold of our identities. In other words when those we suppress and deny are invited back to their humanity, the aspects of ourselves that we hide, suppress, and deny, can be invited back into the fold of our psyches. Then the chapters of our lives that are a source of shame and that we don’t want anyone to know about can be reunited as an essential part of our meta-narrative. It is also imperative that young people hear stories of loss, agony, and disappointment from their elders. This normalizes the human journey, which is never without anguish.

In the Gospels Jesus makes peace with the odd-balls of his time. In turn, he encourages us to make peace with the odd-ball in our communities and within—whatever is peculiar and eccentric and not easily understood has a place at the table, has something to teach us and our community. Through the art of listening and acceptance, even the most contrarian rebels can begin to mature, develop, and communicate more appropriately with their eccentric nitch in society. One of the things I love about English society is its history acceptance of eccentrics. What English society has perceived is that eccentrics often have a great deal to contribute to the whole, a case in point is William Chester Minor, a prolific author of the Oxford English Dictionary.

The most glorious human achievement is to experience Taborian Light or uncreated Light in the depths of prayer. To seek after, integrate, and embody the Light of Christ is Christianity at its best, which moves us beyond belief systems and belonging systems to actual experience. The Christology of The Jesus Paradox gives us a theological anchor, so the experience of Divine Union doesn’t just float in space, but has a language to contain and behold it as much as is possible.

So, what are the major changes in this tenth anniversary edition?

1. First, the citations in the original book did not meet an academic research standard. So, a labor of love, that my wife helped me with, was cleaning up the citations so they are at an academic research standard.

2. In my estimation, I did not reference and include Cyril of Alexandria and Severus of Antioch enough in the original book. Since they are the Church elders most well versed in the Jesus Paradox (Miaphysite), it makes sense to reference them more in the text, and to add an appendix of pertinent Cyril and Severus quotations. Why do I focus on Cyril and Severus to the exclusion of Dioscorus (archbishop after Cyril)? My answer echoes the words of author John Anthony McGuckin: Dioscorus continued Cyril’s theology with less political acumen.

⁶

3. Third, some of the original work was redundant and lacked scaffolding to help the reader follow my train of thought, so this revision eliminates redundancies and adds scaffolding where appropriate. This included changing some titles so they correlate better to the revised text and expanded appendices.

4. I incorporate the understanding that The Jesus Paradox is the West’ nondual theology. I touched on this in the original book, but expand on it here.

5. I want to thank Wipf & Stock publishers for the opportunity to publish this revised and expanded tenth anniversary edition. This publication will be part of Wipf & Stock’s highly regarded Imprint series.

2

. The flooding of the Marshall Islands and the disappearance of the glacier atop Mount Kilimanjaro are two tame examples.

3

. Shannon, Thomas Merton’s Dark Path,

21

.

4

. Bourgeault, The Wisdom Jesus,

30

.

5

. Smith, The Soul of Christianity,

16

. The italics are the authors own.

6

. Menze. Patriarch Dioscorus of Alexandria,

7

.

Original Preface

My task has been that of the weaver and the dyer. 
I take no credit at all for the cotton and the thread.

—Anthony De Mello

The Light of the Mystics

There are numerous harrowing chapters in Christian history, including the Crusades ( 1096 – 1291 ), The European and New England Witch Hunts ( 1450 – 1692 ), the subjugation of indigenous peoples in the name of mission, the religious sanction of colonialism, persistent strains of sexism and misogyny, regressive anti-rational elements, the bombing of abortion clinics, the pedophile priest scandal of the Catholic Church, and the perpetuation of violence.

Through the night of these travesties, a bright light shines that can counter and ultimately vanquish these shadows. This light is the light of the Christian Mystics, who reflect Christianity’s essence—the unflinching search for God through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4).

The light of the Christian Mystics shone most intensely and consistently for a brief period of history in the Egyptian desert. This book focuses on the brilliance of that time and place. I will focus on the most concentrated beam of light in Christian history, which shone from experiential communion with the source: Jesus.

[a]Which Mystics?

When my friend Kimberly first glanced at my book she asked the obvious question: To which mystics do you refer? I often reference the term Alexandrian Mystics.⁷ So, I need to be specific about what I mean . . .

I have charted the lineage of the Alexandrian Mystics in appendix B. Most Oriental Orthodox theologians today agree with this list. The Alexandrian Bishops listed in appendix B carried the lineage of the Alexandrian Mystics, as contemporized in this book.⁸

During the period noted in appendix B (312–454 CE) there was profound synergy between the monks of the Egyptian desert and the Alexandrian Bishops. So The Alexandrian Mystics includes the monks and nuns of the Egyptian desert during this period, some of whom are better known as the Desert Fathers and Mothers.

Although people know a lot about the Desert Fathers and Mothers and there has recently been a resurgence of interest in them, few understand that there was a mystical theological core that united them, especially between 312 and 454CE. That core was the essential understanding of Jesus as

Paradox—that he is at once God and human.⁹ The Alexandrian Mystics’ phrase at once God and human is the keystone. This mystic theology means we can never refer to Jesus’ humanity aside from his Divinity. We can also never refer to Jesus’ Divinity aside from his humanity. In other words, if I am a believer I can’t say Jesus is human, period. I need to qualify that statement: the human incarnation of God. If I am a believer I also can’t say Jesus is God, period. I need to qualify that statement: God in human form.

This profound insight illuminates the person of Jesus today, where most on the Christian left seem comfortable with Jesus’ humanity only (the historical Jesus) and where most on the Christian right seem enamored with Jesus’ Divinity only. Both miss the boat. According to The Alexandrian Mystics Jesus is at once God and human—a Paradox.

The West is familiar with the Desert Fathers and Mothers. But the West is not familiar with the theology that united them in the fourth and fifth centuries—the theology of The Jesus Paradox.¹⁰

My book is titled Healing the Divide because Western Christianity today is divided between those who, for all practical purposes, acknowledge Jesus’ humanity only and those who acknowledge Jesus’ Divinity only. The Jesus Paradox as taught by the Alexandrian Mystics has the power to heal this divide.

To give you a better feel of what I’m talking about here you can watch a Youtube PowerPoint titled The Jesus Paradox: Christianity’s Mystic Core. People have found the PowerPoint a helpful tool to grasp the root concept of this book.

Perspective

Tony Robinson’s book, What’s Theology Got To Do With It?, claims that Christians, especially mainline Christians like me, have lost our way because we’re not sure what we believe.¹¹ So our task is to clarify our core convictions in light of twenty-first century challenges. Only after we have clarity about our core truths, will we have the zeal necessary to restore and rebuild our twenty-first century churches. When we believe with our heads and our hearts, the integrity of our conviction is able to move mountains.

As we seek to clarify our core convictions in light of our times Phyllis Tickle’s Book, The Great Emergence, outlines our mission.¹² Tickle writes that every five hundred years or so the Church feels compelled to hold a giant rummage sale.¹³ At the sale we decide what things are invaluable to our faith and with which we can’t part. We also decide what things we’re ready to let go of in light of changing times.

In this book I identify and clarify the theological gem of The Alexandrian Mystics. For me this gem is the invaluable core of Christian tradition that we can’t part with, the foundation upon which everything else depends.

I’m fascinated by the legacy of the Alexandrian Mystics passed down through the ages, revitalized with the teachings of Severus of Antioch (d. 542), and preserved in the Oriental Orthodox Church of today (not to be confused with the Eastern Orthodox Church).

From a patristic point of view, that is from the point of view of the study of the Church Elders (also known as Patristics), the elders who I want to distill and popularize here are Cyril of Alexandria and Severus of Antioch. These two are the primary lineage holders of the Jesus Paradox (Miaphysite).

Mystics are the authorities of their respective traditions. They have experiential knowledge of God that surpasses secondary ways of knowing. Through habitual silent prayer, the Alexandrian Christian Mystics experienced union with God. Alexandria and the surrounding desert regions of the fourth through the fifth centuries was the most fertile period of Mystic Christianity. Never before and never since was there such a concentrated number of Christian mystics collaborating with the most sophisticated theological minds of the ages. My intent is to capture the spirit of the Alexandrian Mystics and their theology for the twenty-first century.

This book is intended for the Christian reader in general, the Mystic Christian in particular, and for seekers interested in Mystic Christianity and its role in the twenty-first century.

¹⁴

Disclaimers

Most of what I’ve written isn’t original research. It’s an original distillation and contemporary synthesis.¹⁵

This book is sometimes edgy. The edge is intended to clarify the truth of the mystics, not to clobber people.

This book isn’t a specific history. For readers interested in a more specific history, refer to the bibliography and appendices.

This book is a treatise that looks deeply into the life-giving roots of Christian tradition . . . We can’t plunge into this stuff without dropping into the depths of our own souls.

The book will become more understandable and satisfying as you go along. And when you’re done you’ll see each section has its place and that together they form an organic whole.

References

I encourage you to flow with the written text and not worry about the footnotes or appendices. If you have interest you can scan the very readable footnotes and appendices later. While reading, if you come across an unfamiliar or unclear word or phrase, check the glossary in appendix A.

Throughout the book I make many scripture references. Unless specified otherwise, New Testament and Psalm references are taken from Oxford University Press’ An Inclusive Version¹⁶ and Old Testament references are taken from The New International Version.

I’ve provided the year of death for all deceased people when first referenced, to give ready historical context.

At the end of each chapter, there are questions for reflection and discussion for study groups.

For stories I use fictitious names to protect identities.

I often use The Philokalia¹⁷ as a general source for understanding The Alexandrian Mystics (not for the finer points of their theology). I think this is admissible given that The Philokalia represents a consistent lineage of Eastern Mystic Christianity through the ages.

Acknowledgments

I thank Robert VanDale (Professor of Ethiopian Orthodox Studies), Duane Eberhardt, Romayne Potosky, Ari Salomon, Charley Custer, Rev. Ken Barnes, Forrest Kinney, Dow Edgerton (professor, author, and former dean of Chicago Theological Seminary), Barry Fishler, Judy Boncaro, Rev. Samuel Sawitski, and Orthodox monk Abba Yohannes. Without their encouragement and help in editing various early stages of the manuscript this book wouldn’t have become a reality. Thanks to Cynthia Bourgeault, William Meninger, Ken Barnes, and Abba Yohannes for their endorsements. Appreciation also for Fran Stach’s last round of copyediting.

What can I say about the blessing of David Sanford and Dr. Leonard Sweet? Their invaluable encouragement along the way gave me the courage for the long journey to publication. Without their help this book wouldn’t have seen the light of day!

My heartfelt thanks to Richard Rohr for his eloquent afterword.

Gratitude to my primary teachers of Centering Prayer: Rev. Sandy Casey-Martus and Thomas Keating.

Finally, I want to thank all the congregations I have served as pastor. Your numerous examples of integrity and service have been a lamp to my path. You have deepened and humbled my spirit.

7

. See Alexandrian Mystics in glossary (Appendix A).

8

. See Oriental Orthodoxy and Alexandrian Bishops in glossary (Appendix A).

9

. This is the root theology of the incarnation shared by Athanasius, Cyril of Alexandria, and Severus of Antioch. This root theology of the incarnation appears in the Nicene Creed, also known as the Athanasian Creed. This mystical theology of the incarnation is often referred to as the hypostatic union.

10

. See Jesus Paradox in glossary (Appendix A).

11

. I grew up in the Episcopal Church, then was a member of the Religious Society of Friends/Quakers (FGC), then was a member of the United Church of Christ (UCC), since

2018

I went back to my roots and have been a Quaker. My history and my study are ecumenical.

12

. See Emergent Church in glossary (Appendix A).

13

. Tickle, The Great Emergence,

16

.

14

. See Mystic Christianity in glossary (Appendix A).

15

. I didn’t consult the original languages of the ancient texts related to this work. I’ve relied on English translations. There are some excellent primary sources, especially of Cyril of Alexandria, which unfortunately for me, are in French.

16

. Gold, et al., The New Testament and Psalms: An Inclusive Version. I have some discomfort with the neutered language of An Inclusive Version. I’m waiting for a version that honors the universality of God by alternating male and female images for God. Throughout the book I avoid male pronouns for God, acknowledging that God is beyond such limitations. When Father-Mother is used in An Inclusive Version, I substitute the word God.

17

. See Philokalia in glossary (Appendix A).

Part 1

A Beginning

1

A Yearning Too Deep for Words

I do not look for God because I think it is what I am supposed to do; I do it because I need to, because of a longing that is not of my own creation.

—John of the Cross

Most of us are looking for a home. We’re displaced people. The average American moves every five years, deals with an increasingly frantic pace of life, and has fractures, if not in the immediate family, then in the extended family. Many of us have lost our link to the past. The traditions that spoke to our ancestors no longer speak to us with the same conviction.

We find ourselves on a turbulent ocean called the twenty-first century, where through the internet, satellite television, air travel, and cell phones the world is at our doorstep. Vast horizons are open to us as never before. It is an incredible, fascinating time. It is also a bewildering and anxiety-ridden time.

Now, more than ever, we need a home—not just a physical home, but a spiritual one.

A recent television show depicted people trying to live like pioneers. One of the experimental pioneers said, There are twelve-step groups, such as Alcoholics Anonymous. In these groups people start group sharing with, ‘Hello my name is John and I’m an alcoholic.’ He continued, I often feel we need support groups, not only for the chemically dependent, but for all of us living in the twenty-first century. In such a group I would start by saying, ‘Hello my name is John and I live in the twenty-first century’ . . . These are overwhelming times.

When people had job security, came from stable homes, and lived in the same place their whole lives, spiritual homesickness was less acute. Now, when everything seems tenuous, we need a spiritual anchor.

Whether we act on it or simply dream of it, all of us instinctually return to our origins—to our roots. It may be to the desert to discover ourselves in its stillness (Psalm 46:10). It may be a return to Ireland to find our relatives and family name. It may be a pilgrimage to Lourdes in France, where seekers report healings and direct communication with the Divine.

We yearn to take the journey of Abraham and Sarah—the journey through the wilderness to the Promised Land. This is particularly true in America. The Spanish conquistadors, the Puritans, the pioneers and colonizers all searched for an earthly paradise. And the migration of seekers continues—flocking to Bali or India to find their guru, to California to find the sun and its gardens of Eden, or to that church with the new young minister who promises heaven.

Most of us are searching for a Promised Land where we can lie down in green pastures, be led to still waters, and restore our souls (Psalm 23:2–3a). We yearn for the tumultuous waters to still. We long to catch our breath and connect with something far deeper than our disconnected twenty-first century selves. We thirst for a refuge that transcends our fragmented, internet-surfing minds. We thirst for a spiritual home that is as spacious as the starlit desert sky, yet as intimate as our spouse’s body who occupies our bed.

We thirst for something at the edge of our tongues, for a spaciousness that creates space where there is no space, for light-hearted presence of mind that brings humor into the humorless situation, for something at the tips of our tongues that echoes the invisible freedom of monarch butterfly wings.

Exposure to the World’s Religions

I grew up all over the world and took in the world’s religions by osmosis. Countries outside the United States where I’ve lived include Indonesia, Bolivia, and India.

Many of my peers have been exposed to the world’s religions. And as a result they can no longer accept the unquestioned Christian dogmas of previous generations. Their worldview has expanded and now their faith needs broadening to stay relevant.

The task of integrating twenty-first century insights with Christian tradition is daunting, so many of my peers reject Christianity wholesale. Others jump ship to other spiritually rich religious traditions that speak credibly to twenty-first century challenges.¹ Still others retreat from organized religion in order to fashion tailor-made spiritualities borrowed from various traditions.

My approach was different. I believed Christianity had the spiritual depth to weather the twenty-first century storms. And I passionately sought out this depth.

The spiritual vigor I looked for wasn’t taught in my childhood church. I was taught many valuable lessons of community life and humble service, but the essence of Jesus and the deep spiritual underpinnings of his teachings eluded me. I think they also eluded the minister of my youth. Yet I instinctively knew that the language to express the deepest spirituality of Christian tradition existed. So I searched.

In college and graduate school Christianity wasn’t in vogue. In fact, Christianity was openly lambasted by my peers. Given the general hostility toward Christianity, especially on the West Coast, it is little wonder so many drift away.

The progressive minded Christians with whom I went to school lamented the state of American Christianity as a whole, which often champions pop-culture sentimentality and devalues reason. Yet, these progressive Christians were unable to find an alternative that gets to the heart of twenty-first century challenges.

My progressive Christian friends today often find themselves in mainline denominations that are losing numbers yearly. These denominations lack a unified theological stance. At worst they’re wishy-washy about their faith in Christ. Or at best they appeal to the historic Jesus. Their faith also lacks the passion of their evangelical and fundamentalist sisters and brothers. And the lack of conviction and passion is a big part