To start - had another of those clear insights this morning that defy being put into interesting (new) words. It was about addiction; how it limits our concentration on other more important things. But it wasn't just about alcohol or tobacco or other drugs - but also about food, prestige, and whatever else we might be chained to that distorts our thinking or robs of us time better spent. All of which only goes back to the aphorisms of religion, which seem so trite as to be useless - but are none the less true. All these things that tie us to selfish needs and must be kept in moderation - that is, must be made to take second place. As usual, way easier said than done.
Community; Dorothy Day is right - it is the one true antidote to loneliness - but she is not talking about the bowling league or the prayer chain or even marriage, but real community; that is, tying your fortunes and daily lives to a group, with the group being the focus. It is what I was looking for in my hitchhiking travels (Dream Weaver), but realized that I couldn't find because of my own individualism. And, truth be told, those offshoots of community that I did come across - from the hippies in Tennessee to the Jesus Freaks in Texas, to the neo-Hindus in Virginia - many are either no longer functioning, continue in a less community-oriented fashion, or have lost a good portion of their earlier adherents. Obviously, I am not the only one who is an individualist. As stated above in the first paragraph of the blog, most of us are addicts to something in this world that keeps us from opening up and dropping our little needs. This is not only a problem of people in the modern West; look at what China and Russia and Vietnam, etc, felt they had to do to make community - and failed to do so even using brutal (and contradictory) force. The truest, purist communities that I ever encountered were among the back-woods Indians of Venezuela, who really did live cheek to jowl, and well - and I bet had little of the loneliness Dorothy Day suffered. They did have differences and some troubles, though, as one would expect; but more so, they achieved their community through exclusion. The name of a tribe most often translates to "the people," and they mean it; if you are not of them, you are not fully human and so do not deserve human treatment (you might get it anyway, but it is not required).
Saint John Berchmans said, "vita communis est mea maxima penitentia" (communal life is my greatest penitence), and this from a Christian saint! The problem is, we are primarily concerned with our own self-interests. This is 'written' in the way of the world: when I am hurt, or hungry, or bereaved, it is I who feel it directly. Others may be concerned and share in it, but can never feel it as I. Thus the sufferings and humiliations of the individual affect that individual the most - and cause him to protect or elevate or achieve something social primarily for himself. This is not a quirk of a bad character, but the nature of how we experience the world. It is rather a self-contradiction to care for others as much - or more - as we care about ourselves. And yet, this is what is required of an open, fully-functional community. It is why holy men - saints - are so rare and so highly valued (once they are dead, anyway). They point the way to shared suffering, which is in sum, a loss of suffering. The community can take away the pain and turn it into a focus of greater community - and love - and thus make suffering a positive. This is not the only way to do it, but it is the easier and larger way - a way of self-negation that has functional and often immediate results.
But community is, as said, contradictory to how we are built. This is the reason for the "negation" found in religion - and disliked by so many of our time. It is not meant to punish, but to diminish egotism and create community; it is in community that we find enduring love, and in love, not only relief from our suffering, but concrete meaning to life that extends from the ground into the heavens.
If Karl Marx knew that what he proposed was spiritual in nature (as Dorothy Day did) he would have died of apoplexy, but his utopia was ill-served by his blindness. Man is not made by the mode of production or its ownership, but by spirit decanted into individual form. The not-so-well-kept secret to happiness - to utopia - is to find the unity of spirit through the unity of community. Although this is the easiest way, it is still a Herculean task. It is best represented exactly by those who give the most of themselves - those religious who sacrifice everything to serve others; but who is built to clean the leper? Who can give away his cloak to someone who later will steal his shoes? Who can live by the rules necessary for deep community without feeling oppressed? I think only those given the spirit, the insight, and the strength. What they gain is ultimately for themselves, but it comes through giving up the flesh in bits and pieces, often painfully and often literally. Ah, community. FK
Community; Dorothy Day is right - it is the one true antidote to loneliness - but she is not talking about the bowling league or the prayer chain or even marriage, but real community; that is, tying your fortunes and daily lives to a group, with the group being the focus. It is what I was looking for in my hitchhiking travels (Dream Weaver), but realized that I couldn't find because of my own individualism. And, truth be told, those offshoots of community that I did come across - from the hippies in Tennessee to the Jesus Freaks in Texas, to the neo-Hindus in Virginia - many are either no longer functioning, continue in a less community-oriented fashion, or have lost a good portion of their earlier adherents. Obviously, I am not the only one who is an individualist. As stated above in the first paragraph of the blog, most of us are addicts to something in this world that keeps us from opening up and dropping our little needs. This is not only a problem of people in the modern West; look at what China and Russia and Vietnam, etc, felt they had to do to make community - and failed to do so even using brutal (and contradictory) force. The truest, purist communities that I ever encountered were among the back-woods Indians of Venezuela, who really did live cheek to jowl, and well - and I bet had little of the loneliness Dorothy Day suffered. They did have differences and some troubles, though, as one would expect; but more so, they achieved their community through exclusion. The name of a tribe most often translates to "the people," and they mean it; if you are not of them, you are not fully human and so do not deserve human treatment (you might get it anyway, but it is not required).
Saint John Berchmans said, "vita communis est mea maxima penitentia" (communal life is my greatest penitence), and this from a Christian saint! The problem is, we are primarily concerned with our own self-interests. This is 'written' in the way of the world: when I am hurt, or hungry, or bereaved, it is I who feel it directly. Others may be concerned and share in it, but can never feel it as I. Thus the sufferings and humiliations of the individual affect that individual the most - and cause him to protect or elevate or achieve something social primarily for himself. This is not a quirk of a bad character, but the nature of how we experience the world. It is rather a self-contradiction to care for others as much - or more - as we care about ourselves. And yet, this is what is required of an open, fully-functional community. It is why holy men - saints - are so rare and so highly valued (once they are dead, anyway). They point the way to shared suffering, which is in sum, a loss of suffering. The community can take away the pain and turn it into a focus of greater community - and love - and thus make suffering a positive. This is not the only way to do it, but it is the easier and larger way - a way of self-negation that has functional and often immediate results.
But community is, as said, contradictory to how we are built. This is the reason for the "negation" found in religion - and disliked by so many of our time. It is not meant to punish, but to diminish egotism and create community; it is in community that we find enduring love, and in love, not only relief from our suffering, but concrete meaning to life that extends from the ground into the heavens.
If Karl Marx knew that what he proposed was spiritual in nature (as Dorothy Day did) he would have died of apoplexy, but his utopia was ill-served by his blindness. Man is not made by the mode of production or its ownership, but by spirit decanted into individual form. The not-so-well-kept secret to happiness - to utopia - is to find the unity of spirit through the unity of community. Although this is the easiest way, it is still a Herculean task. It is best represented exactly by those who give the most of themselves - those religious who sacrifice everything to serve others; but who is built to clean the leper? Who can give away his cloak to someone who later will steal his shoes? Who can live by the rules necessary for deep community without feeling oppressed? I think only those given the spirit, the insight, and the strength. What they gain is ultimately for themselves, but it comes through giving up the flesh in bits and pieces, often painfully and often literally. Ah, community. FK
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