The Institute for the Advancement of Psychedelic Christianity

Book Review: A Little Book of Unknowing by Jennifer Kavanagh

Some of the statements Kavanagh makes in this book strike me as wise as wise can be. But mixed in with them are ones that I believe take us down the wrong path.

First, the wise part. It is a book of unknowing in that it celebrates the deep background of one’s existence that always eludes one’s intellectual grasp. It is not a matter of willfully remaining ignorant through laziness or a superstitious fear of finding out that reality doesn’t conform to one’s wishes. Instead, what Kavanagh recommends is an openness to being guided by what is not under one’s control. She writes about “seeming coincidences which are glimpses of an existing connection, hitherto unnoticed,” and states, “The more open we are, the more these seem to appear.” (p. 27) She illustrates this way of living with anecdotes from her own life and quotations from the writings of others, and shows how this openness to being guided by what is not under one’s control is the same thing as creativity, improvisation, waiting for clarity, and obedience to the will of God. She writes, “With the world inside us as our guide, we have moments of choice: to betray our true self or to say ‘yes’.” (p. 29)

The unwise part begins to creep in when she starts talking about the ego: “Obedience to that process means trust, is the very meaning of ‘faith’, the surrender of ambitions, plans, decisions made by the ego and the urge to control.” This kind of language is familiar to me from the writings of Alan Watts, Huston Smith, and others. My problem with it is that it assumes a clear distinction between a good self, “the true self,” and a bad self, “the ego”; and I think I am only one self, who is sometimes good, sometimes bad, and complex in many other ways as well. “Ego” just means “I” in Greek and Latin. I don’t think it is helpful to castigate a bad “I” who is the one who makes mistakes and does bad things, as if this weren’t the same “I” who sometimes understands and does good things. I would ask: Can’t we pay attention to synchronicity without necessarily surrendering our ambitions, plans, and decisions? Isn’t it better to enjoy an interplay between our plans and synchronicity? To recognize the importance of what we can control as well as the importance of what is beyond our control? I suspect that Kavanagh would answer, “Yes, yes, of course,” but what came across to me in reading the book was too much of a recommendation of an unhealthy self-abnegation. Near the beginning of the book she wrote, “. . . [T]he unforeseen may contain riches that go beyond what in our habitual ways of thinking and in our workaday lives we are capable of imagining.” But then a little later she wrote, “In our action in the world, if we act from that state of ego-free emptiness we will transform the manner of our working. If we work for others, we will know to expect nothing in return.” And I thought, “Well, which is it? Are we to find riches beyond our imagining, or nothing? If everybody followed the advice of her second statement, we should expect no one to enjoy the fruits of helping or of being helped by someone else. Consider those who wanted to be healed by Jesus. Were they wrong to want this? Were they ego-driven? Should they have wanted only that others should be healed? If you don’t love yourself, then loving your neighbor as yourself equals not loving your neighbor.

I think there are two types of mysticism. One is expressed in Hinduism and Buddhism, and in some forms of Christian and Islamic mysticism. It is the longing for one’s own annihilation in the belief that this is necessary in order to be one with God, or, in the case of Buddhism, to be in the bliss of nirvana. The other is the mysticism of Paul the Apostle, and perhaps of Jesus himself, in which one hopes that God will be all in all in a way that fulfills rather than wipes out individual selves, which each have life everlasting in God. The contrast of being ego-driven versus being ego-free goes with the first. The contrast between success in this life and this world versus the success of everlasting life goes with the second. “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” (1 Cor. 15:19) My advice to readers is to read A Little Book of Unknowing with this second contrast in mind in order to appreciate the wisdom and beauty of this book. Mentally substitute “this worldly” for “ego-driven” and the like, and “faith in life everlasting” for “being free of the ego” and the like.

But back to the wisdom of this book. There is so much to remind one of the deepest, most important truth, which is, in the words of Julian of Norwich, whom Kavanagh quotes, that “all shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.” Despite my criticism of the “ego vs. non-ego” talk, reading this book made me feel more patient, more accepting, calmer and less anxious. Dip into it almost anywhere and you will find excellent advice about how to live in tune with the Spirit. “There is no planning; we are asked to arrive fresh at every moment and respond to whatever happens.” (p. 36) “Silence is a way towards God.” (p. 38) “It was only when I heard the definition of prayer as ‘attention’ that it began to have meaning for me.” (p. 40) “We do well to remember that being led by the spirit depends not so much upon God, who is always there to lead us, as upon our willingness to be led.” (p. 50) I have stated my criticism. I also highly recommend this book.

In The Death of the Church and Spirituality Reborn, Rev. John Littlewood, a former parish priest who now works as the administrator of a counseling agency, argues for incorporating New Age spirituality into the life of the Church of England. He sees the New Age movement as a revival of the old Celtic church that was defeated by the church of the Roman Empire. He points out that the problem with New Age spirituality is that it has no collective authority but rather is a free-for-all with too many self-proclaimed masters. The problem with the Church of England, in contrast, is that it has lost sight of the answer to the question: What is the point of religion — any religion? Rev. Littlewood says the answer is that spiritual growth is the point. This is the part of the book that I found most compelling. He states unequivocally, “If that [spiritual growth] is not foremost then the religion has lost its way! No matter how high sounding or important a cause or issue may be it must still be secondary to matters spiritual for that religion.”

As an American, unfamiliar with the administrative jargon of the Church of England, and lacking the historical and geographical links with the sacred sites and legends of the British Isles, I felt at times that I was not a member of the intended audience of this book. However, the question about the point of a religion is universally important, and it gladdened my heart to see it treated with the emphasis it deserves. Rev. Littlewood wrote about being shocked to read in the UK press that the Church of England “was preparing a guide on what the church members should consider before voting in a General Election,” and I recalled similar discouragement on viewing the website of the United Church of Christ, which reads like the platform of a political party with a position on every controversial social and political question of the day, and very little about one’s relationship with God.

Rev. Littlewood discusses the advantages and the disadvantages of belonging to a church. He gives a clarion warning about the dangers of peer pressure and of using particular verbal formulations as shibboleths to identify those who truly belong. He discusses the differences between prayer, meditation, and magic. He offers detailed suggestions for incorporating New Age spirituality into the Church of England. His book will be of most interest to those who care about religion and spirituality in the context of British life and culture, but it also contains a message that is relevant everywhere: The point of any religion is being in the right relationship with God, and taking stands on political and social issues is of secondary importance.

On the psychedelic side of psychedelic Christianity, here is a link to an essay by Nick Sand on DMT and spirituality, from the Psychedelic Frontier website. Nick Sand was the maker of Orange Sunshine who died recently at the age of 75. He clearly saw the religious nature of psychedelic experience.

Moving Into the Sacred World of DMT, by Nick Sand

What is the difference between divine justice and worldly justice?

God has the power to prevent everyone from ever acting unjustly, but he doesn’t have the power to make everyone act justly as a consequence of love for him and for neighbor, since acting from love is not acting because one has been forced. However, he has the power to make us capable of loving him and our neighbor so that we always act justly; and we must assume either that he has exercised this power, so that we are responsible when we fail to use the capacity he has given us, or that he is responsible when we act unjustly. The kingdom of God happens when everyone exercises this capacity and loves God and neighbor so that everyone freely chooses always to do what is just as the natural consequence of that love.

Suppose our neighbor is acting unjustly and we have the power to make him or her stop, thus protecting the victim of the neighbor’s injustice. We have tried persuading the neighbor, but it hasn’t worked. In such a case, it would be just for us to force our neighbor to stop committing the injustice. Our love for our neighbor would prevent us from using any excessive force, but would not prevent us from using the force necessary to stop the harm to the neighbor’s victim, unless using that force would result in greater harm than the harm prevented. So, we would be acting justly, consistently with love for our neighbor, for it is possible to love someone and also to force him or her to stop doing something unjust.

But would this action help bring about the kingdom of God? We are assuming that refusing to take any action in such a case would not be the just thing for us to do, since it isn’t just to allow preventable harm to someone when the prevention, as we are assuming, doesn’t cause any equal or greater harm as a side effect. So, refusing to act would take us away from the kingdom of God. But would acting, so as to force our neighbor to cease acting unjustly, help bring about the kingdom of God, in which everyone always freely chooses to do the right thing, out of love? Maybe our forcing our neighbor to do the right thing would help him or her eventually to see the light? But in that case, why couldn’t God simply force all of us to act in ways that would result in our eventually seeing the light, so that everyone would do the right thing out of love? And since that hasn’t happened, why isn’t God responsible for the unjust acts people commit against each other, just as we would be guilty if we chose not to intervene to prevent our neighbor from acting unjustly when we had the power to do so? Are we to say that God can’t bring about his kingdom by a just use of force, but that we can? That hardly seems like piety. Surely it is more accurate to think that God can’t do the logically impossible thing of bringing about love by using force and neither can we.

It follows that there is more than one way an act can be the right thing to do. The first and highest, the divine way is when the act is the result of love, not of being forced, and doesn’t involve forcing anyone else to do anything either. That is the kind of act that is done in the kingdom of God, where everyone freely chooses to do what is right, out of love. The second, and not as high but still noble and virtuous in a worldly way, is when the act is the result of love, not of being forced, but does involve forcing someone else to do or stop doing something, and results in the prevention of injustice. Acts that are right in this secondary sense do not occur in the kingdom of God and do not help bring about the kingdom of God. If they did, God would do them all the time, and none of it would be any of our doing. And that is impossible, because in the kingdom of God, it is all our doing, as a result of exercising the capacity God gave us freely to choose to act in accordance with his will, out of love for him and for the neighbor. No one is forced by God or by anyone else.

To sum up, doing something unjust moves us away from the kingdom of God. Doing something just in the secondary or worldly sense leads us neither away from nor towards the kingdom of God. Doing something just in the highest and divine sense, that is from love, with no coercion on either side, moves us toward the kingdom of God.