Shuttling between the poles
This is the Green Man
He lives on the corner of Hello Street and Goodbye.
He lives in a house, Alchemy House.
When you stand close to him
He is surely a man, you can see that
Sometimes, even, he has a beard.
And there are times when you see him
From afar, say, from across the room
He is also a woman.
Now, she is the Green Woman.
This is the way it is.
- Michael Harlow, “No Problem, But Not Easy”
I once attended a religious ceremony in Bangalore, India. It took place in the early morning and was held outdoors, in the ashram where I was staying and learning yoga. I was quite far away, seated on a small hill, looking down at the crowds and ritual. I think it began with the lighting of a fire. What I most remember was the use of sound.
At the beginning of the ceremony, a small crowd of boys, seated in rows and wearing the orange robes of brahmacharya (the first stage of life, “on the path of Brahman” or God), began chanting Sanskrit shlokas (verses from Vedic scriptures delivered in a strictly ordered, syllabic metre). Their voices were precise and insistent, like a great flock of woodpeckers hammering out a code, but in a tone both strange and alluring. And after a while, it must be said, somewhat irritating.
The chanting went on for some time. Then something suddenly happened. It suddenly finished, and a woman’s voice began to rise with a completely different tone and shape. Her voice was tumbling like incense smoke. It was so different to the chanting of the boys. And a such a physical relief! Suddenly, we shifted from head to heart, male to female, square to circle, self-control to self-abandonment. I just loved how this ceremony had both!
Another memory of the ashram: many of the courses were held in silence during the day, but in the evening we attended satsang - a gathering in which devotional songs (from all over the world, and from different religions) were sung. Having been in silence all day, after a little warm up, we often exploded into joyous sound. At some point in the evening, usually when things had reached a crescendo, the guru of the ashram – a small, bearded man with a kind, loving voice, who had trained in astro-physics and Sanskrit – would suddenly indicate it was now time for silence. Wow, such a shift. Such a striking lesson. Can I move from raucous singing to silence? Can I shift from movement to stillness? Can I shuttle between the two, allowing both to have their place, letting the silence take in fully and contrast with the sound?
As the guru was fond of saying: opposite values are complementary.
In terms of Christianity, we might think of many pairs of ‘opposite values’. I would like to suggest one pair here.
Speaking simplistically, I would like to suggest that there are two ways of participating in a church service. One way – let’s call it the Protestant pole – centres around what we believe, what we think, what we choose. So I sit in a service, look at the upcoming prayer, and think: I don’t believe that! I’m not saying that! I’ll just stay silent on that one. Or: I believe that. I love those words!
There is so much about religion that is potentially coercive, manipulative, conformist, and with which we might become mindlessly confluent. It’s important that we’re choiceful and true to ourselves. The problem is when we get stuck in this one mode alone. We may end up treating sacred ritual and belief like a philosophy exam, or, worse, a war of ideas. We stay rather intellectual, critical, and above it. Emphasizing our separateness as free individuals, we become rather stiff and cut off from others, from being part of the whole.
Nevertheless, it’s important and helps us navigate. It might be that a particular service/community/church/religion is indeed the wrong place for us, the terribly wrong place. We need to honour that experience and discern it through. Sometimes, I can’t bear repeating another confession of sins or creedal statement. I just keep silent and exercise my Protestant self, or, what Catholics would call, my conscience.
We are all children of the Protestant Reformation. Martin Luther was modernity’s first liberated individual. He followed his feelings: he went where his conscience led him. Young adulthood tends to reinforce this. But it’s not much fun stuck in the Protestant self for an entire church service. In fact, it’s fully miserable, and you end up wondering why you don’t just stay at home and read a book.
The Catholic pole – I’m really butchering the term – is in contrast about going along with things. In this mode, it ultimately doesn’t matter what the words say on paper (of course, Catholics don’t actually believe this). Can words really describe the Mystery of God? They’re something for us to begin with, agree on, and go on with. If they’re beautiful and true, even better. But there’s no pleasing everyone. We just need to find enough common ground. Our togetherness is where the magic really happens.
Can we embrace enough of the Catholic pole, and satisfy enough of the Protestant?
Prabhujee (Ravi Shankar) – English translation
Oh Master show some compassion to me
Please come and dwell in my heart
Because without you, it is painfully lonely
Fill this empty pot with nectar
I do not know any tantra, mantra, or ritualistic worship
I know and believe only in you
I have been searching for you all over the world
Please come and hold my hand now
