The Baffled Mind
The Real Work
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
- Wendell Berry
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
- Wendell Berry
Hallelujah and its Baffled King
A hymn to souls too carnal to grow old, too secular to give praise, too baffled to mock faith.
-- Bernard Avishal, The New Yorker, about Hallelujah
He loved the oldest stories, the ones he borrowed from world mythology and the Bible, but retold them in the rhythms of the Beat, of jazz standards and blue comedy…For all of this intertextuality, Cohen never became mired in abstractions. He valued the immediacy of the body too much.”
-- Ann Powers, NPR
A hymn to souls too carnal to grow old, too secular to give praise, too baffled to mock faith.
-- Bernard Avishal, The New Yorker, about Hallelujah
He loved the oldest stories, the ones he borrowed from world mythology and the Bible, but retold them in the rhythms of the Beat, of jazz standards and blue comedy…For all of this intertextuality, Cohen never became mired in abstractions. He valued the immediacy of the body too much.”
-- Ann Powers, NPR
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A Letter to David
Nothing can ruin a good song like trying to interpret it. But you don't really care for interpretations, do you? You'd rather be thrown into Bathsheba's arms by the light of the moon, tied to a kitchen chair and have your hair cut, with Hallelujah drawn from your lips. Not the happy Hallelujah of an unambiguous triumph. This is what so many expect of you. They want messianic victories in which evil is conquered and good reigns. They want you to be a king of righteousness. But you are drawn to something deeper than victory. You are drawn to the cold and broken Hallelujah of what is beautiful, unattainable, ambiguous, and compelling. A beauty within the beauty. Your faith in this beauty has always been strong but still, for reasons even you don't understand, you've needed proof, and that's what touched you when saw her bathing on the roof. She was, for you, beauty in the flesh. Did you think she was just yours for the taking? I hope not. Maybe it was the other way around. But she was so much more than mere ideals in your mind; so much more than righteousness and justice. Righteousness and justice give you a sense of duty, and you have no objection to moral law. But she was closer to another dimension of the Lord's heart: a spacious mercy which accepts the whole of life, the finality and the flowers, with tender care that nothing be lost. A beauty within the beauty. There's a wildness in this mercy, as wild as the sea. Of course, you've loved and lost more than a few times in your life; and you well know that love is not a victory march. If people knew how often you've lost they might not have made you king. Maybe it is enough that there are moments of intimacy in which the beauty within the beauty is known and shared, a holy spirit moving in you and between you, as you inhale and exhale Hallelujah. Maybe it's only in these moments that you touch the beauty in a special way. People might not approve of your affairs, but at least they can understand your longing. You wouldn't have so much longing without your faith in beauty. It is said that, in moments of worship and intimacy, you address the beauty as God. Your prayer is not to a God above but rather to a God below, in the very vulnerability of life. It is not something that comes upon you like a blinding light, or even a cry you hear at night. It is the God of Hallelujah. The truth is, you've been in love with the God of Hallelujah most of your life. You felt it with your friend Jonathan, too. And he felt it with you: "Jonathan’s soul became bound up with the soul of David; Jonathan loved David as himself." (I Samuel: 18:1). The eros in your heart is not reducible to fixed boundaries. Nor is the eros in God's heart. This is one reason you love music. It is more spacious than duty. It gives God pleasure. Yes, in music you hear the tender side of God. Some people imagine God as having a face that can be carved in statues. They are inclined to make graven images of the Lord, if not in stone then at least in their imaginations. They think God is a noun. That's not the way you see things. You find God in feelings not faces. And you love music because music is what feelings sound like. There's even a secret chord you play on the harp that is especially pleasing to the Lord. It has a fourth and a fifth, a minor fall and a major lift. It is almost a longing, a moaning. When you play it the Lord is beckoned into the wildness of divine mercy. The Lord becomes fragile, too. You worry when people neglect the wildness of God's mercy. And you worry when they forget the cold and broken side of life, too, with which even God shares. They live in their heads but lose their hearts. You want to help your people live with a sense of God's tenderness as well as God's righteousness. You want them to live justly but also mercifully, sensitive to mixed motives and confused aims which both feed and destroy a soul. You cannot pretend that your affairs have been right or righteous. You have asked the Lord to forgive you many times. Have you asked Bathsheba to forgive you, too? Surely you have, but that's not enough. You had her husband murdered. You will live with this for the rest of your life. No one can unmake the past, not even the Lord. You will need to be honest about this, trying your best to put yourself in the position of Uriah, and this empathy may well be hell for you. You will understand what you did. You will grow to love Uriah and beg him for forgiveness. His Hallelujah is cold and broken, too. Colder than yours. It is good that Bathsheba married you. Let her teach you in the arts of mercy and wisdom. We are sorry that the child born from your intimacy perished so early from a disease. Please know that the punishment was not from the Lord. The Lord does not work this way. The Lord is all-loving but not all-powerful, and on the side of each life and every life, all the time, everywhere. That's why there's so much brokenness in the Lord, too. There are cruelties in the world that even the Lord cannot prevent. Redeem? Yes. But prevent? No. Divine anger is another name for divine pain. Every time we harm others or ourselves we take a little piece of the Lord's heart. Stories are going to be told of your love affair. Some will even be canonized. Let us hope that someone will tell the whole story from Bathsheba's perspective, from Uriah's perspective, and from the child's perspective. Their stories dwell in the Lords's heart as tenderly as your own. Perhaps there is an ultimate weaving together of stories so that they fit together into a kind of harmony, not unlike the harmonies you hear when you play your harp. You may think that when you play the chords it is you playing and the Lord listening. But in some of them it is the Lord playing through you, so that you can hear the mercy and feel the beauty. You have let your hair grow out again. You've given up on getting haircuts while tied to chairs. Thank the Lord. May you stand before the Lord of Song for as long as you can, guiding people in the ways of mercy as well as righteousness, hoping that in your words people might sometimes hear the blaze of a longing that blazes in their words, too. It leans out forever and it leans out for love. In your infidelities there was a leaning, too. That's why we love you. -- Jay McDaniel |
Lyrics to Hallelujah
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this The fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Baby I have been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah There was a time when you let me know What's really going on below But now you never show it to me, do you? And remember when I moved in you The holy dove was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Maybe there’s a God above But all I’ve ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you It’s not a cry you can hear at night It’s not somebody who has seen the light It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah You say I took the name in vain I don't even know the name But if I did, well, really, what's it to you? There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn't matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah I did my best, it wasn't much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you And even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah The Woman On the Roof
Bathsheba was the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and afterward of David, by whom she gave birth to Solomon, who succeeded David as king. (United Kingdom of Israel and Judah).
Jean-Léon Gérôme's depiction of Bathsheba bathing as viewed from David's perspective. The story of David's seduction of Bathsheba, told in 2 Samuel 11, is omitted in Chronicles. The story is told that David, while walking on the roof of his palace, saw Bathsheba, who was then the wife of Uriah, having a bath. He immediately desired her and later made her pregnant. In an effort to conceal his sin, David summoned Uriah from the army (with whom he was on campaign) in the hope that Uriah would re-consummate his marriage and think that the child was his. Uriah was unwilling to violate the ancient kingdom rule applying to warriors in active service. Rather than go home to his own bed, he preferred to remain with the palace troops. After repeated efforts to convince Uriah to have sex with Bathsheba, the king gave the order to his general, Joab, that Uriah should be placed in the front lines of the battle, where it was the most dangerous, and left to the hands of the enemy (where he was more likely to die). David had Uriah himself carry the message that ordered his death. After Uriah was dead, David made the now widowed Bathsheba his wife. David's action was displeasing to the Lord, who accordingly sent Nathan the prophet to reprove the king. After relating the parable of the rich man who took away the one little ewe lamb of his poor neighbor (II Samuel 12:1-6), and exciting the king's anger against the unrighteous act, the prophet applied the case directly to David's action with regard to Bathsheba. The king at once confessed his sin and expressed sincere repentance. Bathsheba's child by David was struck with a severe illness and died a few days after birth, which the king accepted as his punishment. -- Wikipedia Spirit and Flesh
Like many people, I love Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. I ask the reader's indulgence if I use many phrases from the song in my short appreciation offered in the column on the left.. And the idea of us leaning toward love comes from another of Cohen's songs: Suzanne. I also ask the reader's indulgence in using so many ideas from process theology without saying "process theology." Actually, I take it back. I think it is important to liberate process theology from the phrase "process theology." But more importantly, like many people, I wrote the piece because I understand those whose longing for love, for intimacy, leads them to make decisions and act in ways that harm others. From a process perspective it is important to recognize the harm and also to recognize the motivations, sometimes quite good, that lead the harm. I trust that the Lord in whose heart our lives unfold, breath by breath, somehow absorbs the whole of it with a tender care that nothing be lost. I am also aware that stories of love and lust always have many sides, each told from the point of view of one of the partners. David's longings and Bathsheba's longings were different. Part of faith in God is the hope that, amid our fragmented stories, a deeper narrative emerges, in the very heart of God, which contains within it a hidden Hallelujah that includes the minor chords and the major lifts. In moments of intimacy, when soul meets soul, there is indeed a taste of this Hallelujah. There is no need to hide from flesh in seeking the spirit. The flesh is spirit, too. -- Jay McDaniel 
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Doubt and Spirit
"The faithfulness available to us today must be one that makes robust room for skepticism and for doubt. A modern person who doesn't, on a daily basis, experience an overwhelming sense of despair and meaninglessness is just not paying attention. But to allow ourselves to be defined by those waves of despair is to abandon the great glory of what it is to be human: of being able, knowing that we are finite, mortal, and challenged — to hold on to meaning that we create with each other. Such a faith is a leavening agent for a traditional credulity and deference to Torah and Sages. Integrating this constructive skepticism with the rich loam of faith is the gift that Conservative Judaism can give to its adherents, and to the world."
-- Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, Conservative Judaism Faces Forward
The wheel of spirituality includes many kinds of experiences which, in different contexts and for different people, offer touches of transcendence. One of these experiences is skepticism and doubt.
Rabbi Bradley Artson points out that constructive skepticism -- even to the point of despair and meaninglessness -- can be integrated with what he calls "the rich loam of faith." Among other things he means that people with religious faith should be open to new ideas, even as they challenge old and familiar ideas; and that people should rely on evidence-based reasoning. All process theologians -- and he is among the best -- agree with him.
Another way to appreciate what he is saying is to recognize that there is a kind of faith in doubt itself: namely, faith in the truth or in the way things really are. We will doubt a given idea or belief because we suspect it does not conform to the way things really are. Our doubt is grounded in trust in Truth. Make no mistake. We don't claim to have the Truth, but we do trust in it. That's why we doubt.
Why do we want to be honest in this way? What's so good about conformity to the way things really are? What's so good about Truth?
From the perspective of process philosophy, our own desire to be honest about the way things really are is a way of responding to a divine lure toward truth that is part of the very fabric of the universe. God is, among other things, the lure toward truth. Or, to say the same thing, Truth is another name for God. Our willingness to trust Truth is an act of surrender, of letting go of the idea that reality is simply what we wish it were or say it is. This does not mean that we will end up believing in God. But it does mean that our desire to be truthful is a way of being open to God, even if we don't believe in God. There's a great deal of faith in doubt, and it is very good.
-- Jay McDaniel
Rabbi Bradley Artson points out that constructive skepticism -- even to the point of despair and meaninglessness -- can be integrated with what he calls "the rich loam of faith." Among other things he means that people with religious faith should be open to new ideas, even as they challenge old and familiar ideas; and that people should rely on evidence-based reasoning. All process theologians -- and he is among the best -- agree with him.
Another way to appreciate what he is saying is to recognize that there is a kind of faith in doubt itself: namely, faith in the truth or in the way things really are. We will doubt a given idea or belief because we suspect it does not conform to the way things really are. Our doubt is grounded in trust in Truth. Make no mistake. We don't claim to have the Truth, but we do trust in it. That's why we doubt.
Why do we want to be honest in this way? What's so good about conformity to the way things really are? What's so good about Truth?
From the perspective of process philosophy, our own desire to be honest about the way things really are is a way of responding to a divine lure toward truth that is part of the very fabric of the universe. God is, among other things, the lure toward truth. Or, to say the same thing, Truth is another name for God. Our willingness to trust Truth is an act of surrender, of letting go of the idea that reality is simply what we wish it were or say it is. This does not mean that we will end up believing in God. But it does mean that our desire to be truthful is a way of being open to God, even if we don't believe in God. There's a great deal of faith in doubt, and it is very good.
-- Jay McDaniel
Doubt
Directed by John Patrick Shanley
A brilliantly acted and thought-provoking spiritual drama
about faith, openness, certainty, and not knowing.
Film Review by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat
The priest at St. Nicholas in the Bronx in 1964 is Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman). He is the chaplain at the church's parochial school where he also teaches basketball. Father Flynn is a believer in the winds of change that are sweeping through the country with integration and through the Catholic Church with Pope John XXIII. He has an easy and relaxed manner with the kids; as a preacher, he enjoys shaking his congregation up. In the opening scene of the film, he speaks about the positive value of doubt in the life of a believer: "Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone."
The sermon troubles Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), the imperious and authoritarian principal of the school. But she is expending her energy during the homily chastising the kids in the pews who are talking or sleeping. A severe disciplinarian, she has earned the fear of all the children in the school. Older than Father Flynn, she has no respect for all the changes going on around her. She sees things very clearly in her world of black and white, sin and salvation, right and wrong. Sister Aloysius is rightly upset by the power of priests in the Catholic Church and the secondary and subservient role of nuns.
Sister James (Amy Adams) is a young and enthusiastic nun who teaches history. She is viewed as too lenient with the children by Sister Aloysius who gives her a few tricks, such as putting a glass-framed picture of the Pope in the front of the room so she can see in its reflection if anyone is acting up while she has her back to the class. One day she notices that Donald, an altar boy and the school's first African-American student, has been called out of class for a private meeting with Father Flynn. When the boy returns, she senses that something has troubled him. Sister James also smells alcohol on his breath. She feels compelled to report this incident to Sister Aloysius who immediately infers that Father Flynn has made improper sexual advances to Donald.
In a very tense meeting with the priest and Sister James in her office, Sister Aloysius watches them drink tea and talk about the Christmas pageant. She voices her strong opinion against having the children sing any secular songs such as "Frosty the Snowman." Father Flynn uses the occasion to speak out against the repressive atmosphere in the school and makes it clear that he opts for making it a more open and friendly place. Sister Aloysius then zeroes in on the private meeting between father Flynn and Donald. The priest explodes at being accused of wrong-doing when there is no evidence against him. He leaves in rage and Sister Aloysius is more convinced than ever that he must be forced to leave. On Sunday, Father Flynn preaches a sermon against the damage that can be done by gossip. Meanwhile, Sister James reports that she is having trouble sleeping at night.
Doubt is written and directed by John Patrick Shanley from his 2004 play which won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award. He has based the story on his experiences at a Catholic school in a predominantly Irish Catholic working-class Bronx neighborhood. Shanley, who won an Academy Award for the screenplay for Moonstruck, has hit upon a perfect theme for any depiction of Christianity in these times: the clash between those who live by certain rigid ideas and ideals and those who are more open to change and renewal. Meryl Streep puts in an Academy Award-caliber performance as the scary and overzealous principal whose certainty about Father Flynn and his sin is astonishing. Like the crusaders of the Inquisition, she refuses to admit that there is any other understanding or way of responding than her own.
Equally mesmerizing is Philip Seymour Hoffman who acknowledges his human failings but bases his ministry on the practice of love and compassion. In a crucial scene, he meets with Sister James and commends her for her joy of teaching and "the light in your heart." Although Sister Aloysius is a chilly person who seems to be all rules and regulations, she demonstrates her caring side in the loving attention she gives to the older nuns. In another climactic scene in the drama, she meets with Donald's mother (Viola Davis) and is shocked to learn of another way of seeing the boy and his relationship with Father Flynn.
In the end, Shanley is determined to let each and every viewer make up his or her mind about the guilt or innocence of Father Flynn. The drama challenges us to take more seriously both the mysteries of the human personality and the uncertainty which lies at the core of our days and doings. Love and doubt converge in the practice of not knowing. And that is the true spiritual path. The world is drenched in mystery and no matter what we do, we can never cut through it all and grab hold of the answer, the one explanation. "X" factors abound, upsetting our rational conclusions. Best to just say "I don't know" and take comfort in the reality that you are not alone.
Special DVD features include Doubt: from stage to screen; scoring Doubt; the cast of Doubt; and a feature commentary with writer/director John Patrick Shanley.
The sermon troubles Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), the imperious and authoritarian principal of the school. But she is expending her energy during the homily chastising the kids in the pews who are talking or sleeping. A severe disciplinarian, she has earned the fear of all the children in the school. Older than Father Flynn, she has no respect for all the changes going on around her. She sees things very clearly in her world of black and white, sin and salvation, right and wrong. Sister Aloysius is rightly upset by the power of priests in the Catholic Church and the secondary and subservient role of nuns.
Sister James (Amy Adams) is a young and enthusiastic nun who teaches history. She is viewed as too lenient with the children by Sister Aloysius who gives her a few tricks, such as putting a glass-framed picture of the Pope in the front of the room so she can see in its reflection if anyone is acting up while she has her back to the class. One day she notices that Donald, an altar boy and the school's first African-American student, has been called out of class for a private meeting with Father Flynn. When the boy returns, she senses that something has troubled him. Sister James also smells alcohol on his breath. She feels compelled to report this incident to Sister Aloysius who immediately infers that Father Flynn has made improper sexual advances to Donald.
In a very tense meeting with the priest and Sister James in her office, Sister Aloysius watches them drink tea and talk about the Christmas pageant. She voices her strong opinion against having the children sing any secular songs such as "Frosty the Snowman." Father Flynn uses the occasion to speak out against the repressive atmosphere in the school and makes it clear that he opts for making it a more open and friendly place. Sister Aloysius then zeroes in on the private meeting between father Flynn and Donald. The priest explodes at being accused of wrong-doing when there is no evidence against him. He leaves in rage and Sister Aloysius is more convinced than ever that he must be forced to leave. On Sunday, Father Flynn preaches a sermon against the damage that can be done by gossip. Meanwhile, Sister James reports that she is having trouble sleeping at night.
Doubt is written and directed by John Patrick Shanley from his 2004 play which won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award. He has based the story on his experiences at a Catholic school in a predominantly Irish Catholic working-class Bronx neighborhood. Shanley, who won an Academy Award for the screenplay for Moonstruck, has hit upon a perfect theme for any depiction of Christianity in these times: the clash between those who live by certain rigid ideas and ideals and those who are more open to change and renewal. Meryl Streep puts in an Academy Award-caliber performance as the scary and overzealous principal whose certainty about Father Flynn and his sin is astonishing. Like the crusaders of the Inquisition, she refuses to admit that there is any other understanding or way of responding than her own.
Equally mesmerizing is Philip Seymour Hoffman who acknowledges his human failings but bases his ministry on the practice of love and compassion. In a crucial scene, he meets with Sister James and commends her for her joy of teaching and "the light in your heart." Although Sister Aloysius is a chilly person who seems to be all rules and regulations, she demonstrates her caring side in the loving attention she gives to the older nuns. In another climactic scene in the drama, she meets with Donald's mother (Viola Davis) and is shocked to learn of another way of seeing the boy and his relationship with Father Flynn.
In the end, Shanley is determined to let each and every viewer make up his or her mind about the guilt or innocence of Father Flynn. The drama challenges us to take more seriously both the mysteries of the human personality and the uncertainty which lies at the core of our days and doings. Love and doubt converge in the practice of not knowing. And that is the true spiritual path. The world is drenched in mystery and no matter what we do, we can never cut through it all and grab hold of the answer, the one explanation. "X" factors abound, upsetting our rational conclusions. Best to just say "I don't know" and take comfort in the reality that you are not alone.
Special DVD features include Doubt: from stage to screen; scoring Doubt; the cast of Doubt; and a feature commentary with writer/director John Patrick Shanley.