richard rohr

This is the last column I wrote for the church newsletter at the church where we have been members for the past 10 years.  I wrote it for the September issue, but better, I suppose, a late posting than never...

Sometimes books are enjoyable escapism.  Sometimes they’re edifying, yet dry.  Sometimes they inspire you to create two-dimensional “houses” of paper from Ikea catalog photos all over the living room chair, if you’re 9 and the book happens to be titled Paper Things and apparently involves a fictional child who does something similar.  And sometimes, if you’re really lucky (or perhaps blessed), one comes along that requires writing lots of stars, exclamation points, and associated marginalia all over the pages.

            I’m roughly three-quarters of the way through one of those right now.  The volume is called Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality, and it’s by the Franciscan priest Richard Rohr.  Perhaps the extra time we’d gain from eliminating daily wardrobe decisions (brown robe, check!) would leave us all with hours to spend gleaning remarkable insight from Scripture, but I rather suspect Father Rohr’s abilities stem from deeper God-gifting.  This Catholic priest has some inspiring things to say about the quintessentially Lutheran theological concept of paradox.

            Rohr is very clear about two things: first, the central theme of the Bible is “Divine Unmerited Generosity.”  Our egos don’t like this, because the human ego is conditioned to view the world through a lens of winners and losers.  Our vision trends binary: if I’m right, you must be wrong. 

Rohr points out, however, that God uses the tiny kingdom of Israel and a lengthy procession of screw-ups (David, anyone?) to demonstrate his unconditional love.  David is such a model not because he was a “winner,” but because he was willing to listen to the prophet Nathan when Nathan confronted him over his sin in the case of Uriah and Bathsheba.  David admitted his sin.  He recognized the fatal error of viewing God’s kingdom through the realm of “winners” and “losers,” because by that calculation we are all losers – and until we recognize our “shadow selves,” we cannot rest in the promise of God’s grace.  Even Jesus, Rohr observes, was “tempted” – forced to contend with human frailty – before he began his public ministry.  And once he does begin public ministry, “Jesus himself is never upset at sinners.  He’s only upset with people who don’t think they’re sinners” (167).

            Second, Rohr asserts time and again that God is and always will be mystery.  The more we seek God, the deeper our relationship, the more humble we will become.  “When we know we don’t know fully, we are much more concerned about practical loving behavior” (110).  Does this mean we give up on seeking truth?  Not at all.  What it does mean is that we need to recognize we’re never going to get there.  “We are saying that it is important to have correct, orthodox teaching about God, but don’t for a moment presume you know everything or even most things about God.  On that razor’s edge we will find the balance that the Bible offers” (111).

            So: we’re all losers.  But if we recognize and truly grapple with our whole humanity – our shadow selves as well as the parts we like – we will recognize that all we can do with God’s grace is accept it.  We will understand that God’s grace cannot be earned.  Even our acceptance is not really something we “do” —“God’s love is constant and irrevocable; our part is to be open to it and let it transform us” (168).

            And: we should seek after truth, but we’re never going to find it.  And if we become convinced we have, we can be 100% certain we haven’t, because we.  Aren’t.  God. 

            Clear? :-)

            For me, a bit of clarity comes with another mysterious statement.  “In the spiritual journey,” Rohr writes, “you come to the day where you know you’re not just living your own life.  You realize that Someone Else is living in you and through you, that you are part of a much Bigger Mystery.  You realize that you’re a mere drop in a Bigger Ocean, and what’s happening in the ocean is happening in you” (49).

            Someone Else is living in us.  The Holy Spirit is living in us.  We contend with paradox because we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  We can rest in this mystery precisely because we are part of God’s mystery.  We don’t view God from outside, placing God in boxes based upon our human limitations – at least, we don’t have to, and when we do, we aren’t really talking about God.  That “God” is the “God” of our human consciousness.  God-God is the Bigger Ocean in which we are mere drops, and the truly amazing thing is that God wants us to be part of God’s ocean!

            In the end, all this theology spirals into a quote from a Disney movie (don’t blame Rohr – this analogy is entirely of my own devising).  One of the main characters in Finding Nemo is a delightfully naïve fish named Dory – delightfully so because her very innocence produces deep wisdom.  “Just keep swimming!” is her trademark phrase.  Dory doesn’t know where her journey will take her, and she knows she isn’t perfect.  Nonetheless, Dory trusts.  And so can we. 

We are the recipients of Divine Unmerited Generosity.  All we have to do is rest in the mystery that God’s constant, irrevocable love comes to us all, as we are, swimming in this Bigger Mystery beyond human conception.