| From West by Northwest.org Arts & Letters Franny and Zooey and the Unitive Mystery By Mary Sharon Moore May 6, 2003
I experienced an epiphany of sorts about thirty years back, in my final year of college. I call it an epiphany because it has shed an increasingly unifying light on my life even to this day. Back in those tender years of my early twenties, I had grown gently unhinged from my Catholic framework. So I was caught by surprise when Jesus became the topic one day in my Existential Lit class. The book was J. D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey (Bantam, 1969). College-age Franny has slid into a breakdown of sorts, having gone irretrievably deep into reciting the Jesus Prayer, convinced that the way of the pilgrim must be hers, too. Zooey, full of brotherly zeal for his sister's mental well-being, puts things spiritual into perspective, using, yes, Jesus ("only the most intelligent man in the Bible") as the model. "Who isn't he head and shoulders over?" Zooey asks. "Who besides Jesus really knew which end was up? Nobody. Not Moses. Don't tell me Moses. He was a nice man, and he kept in beautiful touch with his God, and all that-but that's exactly the point. He had to keep in touch. Jesus realized there is no separation from God" (p. 170). A glimpse into the unitive. Some seekers of wisdom came from the city to the nearby monastery and asked the age-old question: "How does one seek union with God?" The Wise One answered: "Not one. Not two." Clues to how we are to be fully alive human persons, alone and together in this world, lie in these two insights: Jesus realizing (or, revealing the truth) that there is no separation from God; the monastic pointing to the mystery of relationship: Not one. Not two. Paul the Apostle would say to the Christian communities: Already but not yet fully. Already what? Already living that unitive mystery which leaves us still longing and hungry for completion: "I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me" (Galatians 2:20). So there seems to be a link between being genuinely human and alive in this world and being connected to-or alive in-the wholly and holy Other. As human persons we are created for and fulfilled in communion with that which is greater than ourselves and the fullness of what we intuitively sense we can be. Spiritually, the unitive way is the way of being in communion (in communio, a sharing or participation in) which renders us not one, but not two. A way-of-being with spiritual origins. Our spiritual forebears grappled with the mystery of this wondrous life we experience and share in common. I offer two images from the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, to shed light from the only lived perspective I know, which is my own. We start at the beginning, the opening of Genesis, where the Hebrew scriptures strive to give words to the mystery of Being-in-creation: In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. (Genesis 1:1-2; NIV) A mighty presence, the Spirit of God, overshadows the unformed universe as a divine force, creatively present for the sake of a world not yet come into being. The gospel of John, often identified as the "unitive" gospel of the Christian scriptures, opens with language highly evocative of that mystery of Being-in-creation: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (John 1:1; emphasis added) My French Jerusalem Bible says, "Au commencement (at the beginning) le Verbe itait" (the verb, the action part of the sentence, was). John continues: He [the Word] was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made (vv. 2-3). So this unitive way of issuing from and being with and in God is simply offered as our way of being. Our authentic way of being human is in this way defined as issuing-from, being-with, being-in. No separation. Not one. Not two. Completely present in the One and being-in-relationship for the sake of the world. The unitive includes kenosis. If we were to regard Jesus as model for this unitive way of being-in-relationship with God, the wholly and holy Other, what does he do? What does such a model suggest, and what clues does he offer for how we similarly might experience unitive relationship with God and with the world, living as he did for the sake of the world? Jesus undergoes kenosis (a Greek word meaning "to empty," and especially to empty oneself of self). Paul offers us the words of an early Christian hymn: Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself . . . (Philippians 2:6-7a) Actually, Paul leads into this hymn with the strong admonition: "Your attitude must be Christ's" (v. 5), an attitude of readiness to empty ourselves, too, of any claim to privilege or favor of relationship with God. As Teacher, Jesus taught not only with words but with the example of his life, and reveals to us the nature of this One who draws us into relationship: God, who is love and nothing else, is worthy of this total outpouring of self, and worthy of the trust it takes to do it. Is kenosis, then, a purely Christian thing? No, it is a profoundly human and therefore godly thing, always rightly done in the context of love and for the sake of love. If you have even been in loving relationship with another human being, you know what self-emptying means, even to the point of longing to live one's entire life selflessly for the sake of the beloved other. Ronald Rolheiser, author of The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality (Doubleday, 1999), eloquently observes: Perhaps there is nothing in this world as powerful to break selfishness as is the simple act of looking at our own children. In our love for them we are given a privileged avenue to feel as God feels–to burst in unselfishness, in joy, in delight, and in the desire to let another's life be more real and important than our own (p. 192). Such love that compels us to live-and even to die or be willing to die-for the sake of the other is that living presence of God-who-is-love within our very human flesh and blood and spirit. The unitive mystery is ours. If you have ever been in loving relationship with another, or felt your soul charged with unexplainable love for the stranger, for humankind, for the natural world, for the cosmos that holds and sustains you, you have entered the mystery of unitive relationship and the profound holy and whole-making experience of "no separation from God." This is mystery not in the sense of something that cannot be understood or rationally explained, but mystery in the sense of deep participative knowledge, an intuitive understanding at the level of soul, where deep speaks to deep, and words might serve only to dilute or trivialize. Again, with Jesus as model for unitive relationship, Paul opens his letter to the Ephesians with a blessing of God for a blessing which that community has received. He writes these remarkable words: God has given us the wisdom to understand fully the mystery, the plan he was pleased to decree in Christ . . . to bring all things into one in him . . . (Ephesians 1:8b-10; emphasis added) The experience and deep knowledge of this unitive way of being-in-relationship with God is not beyond our human grasp. "As he is, so are we in this world," John affirms in his first letter (4:17)–a bold statement of intimacy and witness. The human heart is lured by Love to dwell in this unitive embrace. All of humankind and indeed the entire cosmos is lured by Love to live in this unitive, whole-making, life-giving embrace. The unitive as sexual longing. I write these thoughts on a particularly sunny spring day following endless weeks of overcast, rain, and all-around gloom. Today all of creation hums and buzzes with life-generating energy. It's hard to miss the sexual pulse of the universe. Sexual longing is that deeply embedded yearning of the two to become one. The word "sex" comes from a Latin word meaning to cut or divide, to be severed from the whole. So here we are again, suspended in that mystery of "not one, not two," striving to overcome the illusion of separation. What are we, and who are we, in our yearning for wholeness and communion at the core of our lives? The unitive as sexual longing goes far beyond a consideration of who we sleep with or whether we sleep alone. That longing for and expression of wholeness or completeness of self is experienced in all loving relationships, in life-affirming community, and acts of creativity, joy, and self-transcendence. Sexual longing affirms the truth that it is not good for us-man, woman, or child, nor any other created being in this lovely cosmos-to be alone (see Genesis 2:18). "One can have a lot of sex," Rolheiser asserts, "and still lack real love, community, family, friendship, and creativity, just as one may be celibate and have these in abundance" (Holy Longing, pp. 195-96). Sexual energy makes us co-creators with God in an amazing variety of ways, and therefore co-responsible for the well-being of the universe. "Sexuality is not about finding a lover," Rolheiser writes, "or even finding a friend. It is about overcoming separateness by giving life and blessing it" (p. 198). A healthy sexuality helps us to live in the tension and the mystery between "not one, not two." We are a self with name, identifying DNA, and a presence which commingles with the self of others and the Self of God. By giving assent to love we are forever changed. "Communion with": Spiritual longing as fulfillment. I suspect that what it means to be most fully human and alive includes sitting with the sacred Fire within. I suspect that we intuitively know (there's that mystery again) that what is most sacred lies within us. That's why acts of abuse and violence and injustice, even when done against someone else, disturb us so deeply. We are drawn to find that sacred Fire and warm ourselves beside it. Not in it, but beside it. Many are drawn to share with the world in unique ways the light and warmth of that sacred Fire. Thomas Merton (d. 1968), a contemplative Trappist monk of Gethsemane Abbey in Kentucky, writes of the notion of le point vierge, which, at the center of our being, "is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal" (Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, in Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master, ed. Lawrence S. Cunningham [Paulist, 1992], p. 146). We may think of this point vierge, this untouched place within the soul, as the iconic image or unique kiss-print of God. We live suspended in the mystery of such unthinkable intimacy. Wherever this point vierge might be deep within the self, the power of its mystery and presence does not stop at the borders of the self. Merton, repeatedly drawn to ponder this "spark" of sacred Fire within the self, writes of the moment when he became aware of his connection to all others who, like him, bear within themselves sparks of that same sacred Fire: In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world . . . (p. 144). Merton's "special world" was a monastery, and more specifically, a hermit's cabin on the monastery property. But we each live in a special world, of self, of relationships and meanings which oftentimes create borders between our lives and the lives of others, between our private world and the greater world. "Communion with" is the passing beyond boundaries of self, revealing the warmth and light of the sacred Fire within, luring others to pass beyond their boundaries of self to enter into a new reality, a shared experience of existence, of coming forth more fully into being, dwelling for a moment in the wondrous mystery: Not one. Not two. Indwelling. "Communion with" has a brutal antithesis, all too well known and exercised in the world of human relationships, namely, "power over." In washing the feet of his disciples, Jesus clearly made the point: "Power over" and "communion with" cannot abide together. In case his gestures were not clear enough, he reinforced them with words. John's gospel recalls: When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. (13:12-15) Later in his final discourse, Jesus offers a prayer for those who were his own in this world, and for those who would believe in him through their word, a prayer of such intimacy and longing that human language strains to express the desire of his heart: . . . that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. . . . I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them. (John 17:21-23, 26) The unitive mystery reveals itself today. We may have many names for this longing for oneness and indwelling, or we may have no name for it at all-only actions, ways of being-in-the-world, making our statement for a unitive way through the witness of our choice-making and the love-faithfulness of our daily lives. With the recent war in Iraq, people all across the United States-indeed all across the world-stood and kept vigil for peace ("communion with"), and not war ("power over"). We did not stand alone, as isolated selves, but stood in communio–together. So too, following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, people who were total strangers stood and kept sorrowful vigil for loss of life, loss of communio with the human family, reminding ourselves and those quite different from us: None of us lives outside the human community, and none of us will be alone. We will feed and strengthen one another even and especially in the face of terror and death. At the ecological level, striving to be in right relationship with the earth is expressed in actions ranging from tree plantings on Arbor Day to "bicycle Fridays," from coastal clean-up weekends to voter initiative drives. We have learned, because nature has taught us, that our small, isolated actions have consequences-life-giving or death-dealing-across the face of the earth and the soul of the cosmos. For better or worse, we are not separated from this universe that sustains us. At the personal level, the unitive longing expresses itself in our striving for personal wholeness, connecting mind and body and spirit in life-sustaining ways, and in striving for integrity and creativity and joy in our relationships with others. A next step on the unitive path. The soul-wrenching and often bloody struggles of the 1960s and beyond, to end the tyranny of discrimination (a chilling example of "power over"), have led in more recent years to not just acknowledgment but celebration of diversity. We have needed that celebration, which comes like a blessed rehydration of our common human spirit. A next challenge is to move through celebration of our diverse ways of being to a deeper unity at the level of soul-soul of the individual self and soul of the larger social self. We are challenged to harness the power of our connectedness, through technology or through touch, to move from self-interest and opinion to self-transcendence and engagement, from cacophony of the marketplace to harmony of will and heart. I am not speaking of surrender of identity into some larger conglomerate being. I am speaking of a way of lived communion where we are, well, not one, not two. Franny and Zooey and the unitive mystery. Does Franny go over the edge in her spiritual quest? Can her brother Zooey rescue her? Zooey does what any caring brother would do. He calls Franny to coax her out of her crisis, disguising his voice to sound like their beloved brother Buddy, until she catches on. Zooey recalls their childhood days when they starred on the weekly radio program, "Wise Child." Seymour, their now deceased oldest brother, told Zooey to shine his shoes before each program for the Fat Lady. "He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air." Franny, too, remembers the Fat Lady, and how she strived to do her best for her. Zooey continues, "But I'll tell you a terrible secret–Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady... And don't you know, listen to me, now–don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ ,Himself, buddy." (pp. 201-2) We all can picture the Fat Lady, who we just know deserves our best and who calls forth our greater self, and we gladly respond. All of our strivings for wholeness, connection, for relationship, for peace, are expressions of holy longing for that complete and everlasting unitive embrace of the Fat Lady. All are welcome and find peace in the Fat Lady's embrace; no one is turned away. The whole cosmos yearns for the embrace of the Fat Lady. That embrace is communion, and our communion starts now. I believe this communion starts with a meal. May 5, 2003. Mary Sharon Moore (msmoore@efn.org) is a writer, retreat facilitator, and spiritual director based in Eugene, Oregon, and is an active member of St. Thomas More University Parish in Eugene. A few words about group spiritual direction and the format for these series. Group spiritual direction, like individual spiritual direction, is the practice of deep listening, presence, and attentiveness in the search for God in the many aspects of life. One important element in both individual and group spiritual direction is the intention to rely on God, to seek God actively, and to wait for God's leading. Unlike individual direction, groups meet for a limited time, and help participants to consider God's movement in their lives through the lens of a particular topic. Group sessions go for an hour and a half, and include silence, lectio divina (praying and reflecting on Scripture), sharing based on reflection, and requests for prayer for the coming week. Groups are limited to a maximum of six participants. You are asked to commit as fully as possible to attending all sessions. You also are asked to be in place, in silence, at least five minutes before the session is scheduled to begin. These series offer an emotionally safe and prayerful space in which to discover God's ways in your life. They are not a time to socialize, nor do they guarantee "answers" for your life. –M.S.M. These series use the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, along with other texts in harmony with the Christian tradition, and presume participants bring an appreciation of Christian life. No purchase of texts is necessary. If you have not participated in group spiritual direction, please schedule a brief interview with Mary Sharon before registering. You may reach her by phone in Eugene at 541/484-5313, or at msmoore@efn.org. This six-week series is an experience in group spiritual direction focusing on the wisdom of the of the desert fathers and mothers. Come and ponder, wrestle with, and learn from the lean and brilliant sayings of the desert tradition of the early Christian era. Cultivate your own capacity for wisdom and insight into the mystery which is your life. Texts: The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures; selections from Joan Chittister, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily. (Text need not be purchased.) Dates: Tuesdays: May 13 to June 17, 2003, or Thursdays, May 15 to June 19, 2003. Deadline to register: Saturday, May 10, 2003. Suggested offering: $55 ($25 for students). Your "rule of life" is the daily guide that makes your whole life a response to God who loves unconditionally. It clarifies the values that you choose to be the center of your life. This series is part listening, part shared reflection, and part writing. Bring a journal or note pad. Texts: The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures; selections from Debra K. Farrington, Living Faith Day by Day: How the Sacred Rules of Monastic Traditions Can Help You Live Spiritually in the Modern World; and Joan Chittister, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily. (Texts need not be purchased.) Dates: Tuesdays: July 8 to August 12, 2003. Deadline to register: Saturday, July 5, 2003. Suggested offering: $55 ($25 for students). Deepen your awareness of God's presence and discern the movement of God's Spirit in your life-especially in those areas where important decisions have to be made. Each participant will have one session to share their area of discernment and receive support from other participants. Texts: The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. Dates: Tuesdays: September 16 to October 21, 2003; or Thursdays: September 18 to October 23, 2003. Deadline to register: Saturday, September 13, 2003. Suggested offering: $55 ($25 for students). Soul and the workplace often forge, at best, an uneasy truce in the ongoing battle between productivity and the small restless voice of inner self. This series provides fresh insight into the value of searching, self-doubt, and radical simplicity of soul for today's work environment. Texts: The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures; selections from David Whyte, The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America. (Text need not be purchased.) Dates: Tuesdays: November 4 to December 16, 2003; or Thursdays: November 6 to December 18, 2003. Deadline to register: Saturday, November 1, 2003. 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