A View from the Back Pew -- A Response to a Review

I recently offered up a review of Tim O'Donnell's book A View from the Back Pew.  As I read it, I saw in the book a representative voice from within what many call the "spiritual but not religious" group.   Of course the "spiritual but not religious" is not a cohesive movement, but simply a way to describe those who wish to claim the spiritual without aligning with institutional forms of religion.  I also saw in the book signs of frustration with the institution (Roman Catholicism in particular) and signs of gnosticism.  Tim has offered up a generous response to my critque, and I am posting it below.  My hope is that this can provide a forum for conversation between those of us still within the "spiritual and religious" community and those who find the religious part problematic.  So, I invite you to read and respond to Tim's response to my review.

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Hello Pastor Bob,

I come to you here for two reasons: one, you seemed to invite this feedback and I do not want to ignore your call; and two, your review was very powerful to me.

First though, I want to thank you for the time you devoted to reading, considering and writing such a thoughtful review of A View from the Back Pew. Yours is among the most intelligent and meaningful commentary on the book to date; comments that have me thinking a great deal to be sure.

But while I'm here now I want to acknowledge a few of your very insightful and illuminating points.

First, I thank you for being big enough to get past critiquing my (lack of) formal theological training. You'd whip my butt in that arena; you know it and I do to. It takes a very secure and intelligent person to elevate the discussion to where I hoped to take it to begin with. A debate can become circular if it's simply tit-for-tat. You say you didn't want to appear defensive - I doubt you would have but you gain much respect from me for seeing bigger issues to take me to task on - good for you! And, I think good for the discussion.

Your criticism is fair that after my conclusions about Catholicism were drawn, I might have investigated Protestantism more intensely. I didn't get much into this in the book - true, but in reality, had I written more about this, the book would have gone in another direction entirely and frankly, there are many books examining the schism and narrating conversions one way or the other; I would probably not add to the discussion. In retrospect, I at times grouped "Christianity" and "Catholicism" in the same big box and to a learned theologian such as you, I see how it might have aggravated you. But still, I detect patience on your part - maybe because you understood this, maybe you're just giving me a pass or maybe you still had your eye on a bigger fish to fry. (I suspect the latter and again, you demonstrate tremendous patience and insight)

Now - Gnosticism. I state in the book "I'm not a modern day Gnostic or anything like that". You suggest otherwise and I accept your point as valid. Although I wouldn't describe myself as such, that doesn't mean I'm necessarily right. In layman's terms gnosis is knowledge from within - agreed? And, I do think certain spiritual truth is found within us all if we're open to finding it - so, guilty as charged. However, the reason I do not ascribe the label of "Gnostic" to myself is because I believe every human has the capacity to discover this knowledge through the individual connection we all have to God. I do not think there is a "select" and special elite group who possess such knowledge as the ancient Gnostics believed.

I take Jesus at his word when he claims the "kingdom of heaven is within" and I believe he invited us all on a journey inside to find our own divine connection. One other point I'll make on this topic is that the Gnostic Gospels did not influence me. Although I read them and quote them in the book, my contention that we can find truth from within is very organic. As you'll recall, I began to move in this personal, internal direction long before I ever encountered the Gnostic Gospels. They did serve to confirm some of my organic belief about gnosis, but I reject Gnosticism based on its elitist tendency, as I believe Jesus to be the ultimate egalitarian. However, your point is well taken.

As you know, my thesis is that Jesus preaches heaven as a "state of being" and not a "place of being". But, you're not the only person to accuse me of being a Gnostic so I must consider the implication of the charge. (Here again, we get into labels and languages, which you also know, are problems and limitations I point out in the book.) At any rate, I accept your criticism as honest and without malice. You've made me think.

I think your larger commentary is about the "spiritual but not religious 'movement'" of which you sort of make me an ad hoc or default leader of. Again, you make me think. Although this is not what I set out to become, if it places me in a discussion with intelligent, open minded leaders of institutional belief systems like you, I'd be privileged to carry that torch.

I assume you understand that the evolution of divine and/or spiritual articulation is what I believe modern man craves and I can only (at least in my first book) point to the lack of overall theological evolution as the culprit. Simply put, I think we have the capacity to comprehend deeper theology than that represented in two thousand year old doctrine (and dogma). I'm not suggesting God evolves (or that truth is relative) - only that we are evolving and our theology should be too.

(I understand too, that you might say, "Protestantism reflects evolution of Christian theology" and offer examples of differences; I might then say, "yeah, but not enough" and offer examples of lack of differences and we'd be on that circular path that leads nowhere. This is why I appreciate your decision to not nit-pic. Your angle keeps the dialogue intellectually straightforward - the only direction that offers progress. There are certain points along the way to a bigger understanding that we can agree that we disagree.)

I'm honored, touched and impressed by the last two paragraphs of your review. The maturity you display about actually looking at why people might "strike out on their own" is the type of enlightened leadership that gives me hope that it isn't too late. If I were speaking for this "movement" I'd say "Hooray for Pastor Bob! We need to include him in our discussion!"

(The reality though Bob is that it is unlikely that any "movement" is afoot as yet. Why? Paradoxically, lack of an organization! Yes, I see the irony. This is great fun - no?)

If what you say is true about someone like me pushing the pendulum too far, I'd respond by saying real change never seems to happen in the middle of the road - especially with large, ancient institutions. (Sorry for the mixed metaphor but you've got me excited!)

Lastly, the biggest reason for hope is another point you bring up - community. Nobody really wants to strike out on his or her own - not totally. But those with integrity and the courage of their conviction (read stubborn) will sacrifice community for a stronger connection to God. To some, probably as you point out, an increasing number, the overpowering desire for a direct connection to God feels ultimately more imperative than the very natural human need for community. Community can be found in other parts of society. God can't. To those who believe God resides within, the institution as intercessor can be seen as an unnatural impediment to this personal relationship -especially if the doctrine of that institution rings ancient and not fully developed.

This opens up a whole other line of discussion that I'll save for another time. Plus, I think this is what your most interested in discussing so I'll leave it in your capable hands to move this part of the discussion forward if you choose.

I've taken up too much of your space here but it would be remiss of me not to respond to such an intelligent, thoughtful leader such as yourself. I hope your congregation feels lucky to have you leading them.

Thanks again for reviewing A View from the Back Pew - I'm truly proud to have you among the growing body of readers. This little book is striking a nerve - I (and the book) have been called many things in the month since it came out - some wonderful acclaim I do not deserve and some demonization I suspect I don't either. I'll gladly accept both if it makes people think and then begin a dialogue.

You represent equanimity and fairness that actually makes me think it could make a difference - I sincerely thank you for that. You are one of the good guys!  I hope to keep our dialogue alive.

Thanks again,

Tim O'Donnell, Author

A View from the Back Pew

http://timodonnell.org/

A View from the Back Pew -- Review

A VIEW FROM THE BACK PEW: God, Religion & Our Personal Quest for Truth. By Tim O’Donnell. Kansas City, MO: Linchpin Publishing, 2011. Xiv + 264 pages.

More and more people are identifying themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” This new category of religious people is comprised mostly of people who believe in God or at least some “higher power,” but are either dissatisfied with institutional religion or have been hurt by it. They like God, just not the institution. This “new” breed of spiritually-inclined people tends to be eclectic, though their understandings of spirituality often reflect aspects of whatever tradition they may have been born into. In this new age of spirituality, where religious observance and institutional membership aren’t required or expected people feel free to strike out on their own, picking and choosing from among the various religious offerings. In this new world of spirituality, there is no central authority, but because of the entrepreneurial spirit that is inherent in this new age, one can either choose to be one’s own spiritual authority or attach oneself to one of the many spiritual guides who have emerged in the age of new media. Ultimately, in this age of spiritual eclecticism the individual is the final arbiter of truth.

Tim O’Donnell’s apparently self-published book A View From the Back Pew offers readers a personal memoir of a spiritual journey that reflects this new spirit. The author is a business entrepreneur, former newspaper publisher, and most importantly is a former Roman Catholic. He writes about the journey he took from a rather traditional Roman Catholic upbringing, which included the requisite run-ins with narrow minded and physically abusive Nuns to the realization that he was free to embrace the God within. In large part this book is a product of what O’Donnell calls “The Deal,” a pact he made with God while a college student studying in Rome. He had a spiritual experience that led him to abandon college and pursue his fortune, which he would then use to serve God. When the Roman Church seemingly didn’t have much use for his gift, once he had made his fortune, he chose to strike out on his own and use his fortune to tell his story.

The book itself alternates between stories from his life that carry him to the point at which he could share his sense of the life in the Spirit, with his reflections on the nature of this life – including sharing his own doctrinal perspectives. In the epilogue O’Donnell provides the window by which the journey can be evaluated. The title of the book comes from a more recent experience in Rome, where he is sitting in the back pew of the chapel where he had worshiped as a college student. At that moment, he realized that “one could come to communion with God from within. In a rush of overwhelming understanding, I knew the Church was a man made institution that could not deliver a man to where God really dwelt” (p. 256).

As you read this book you can’t help but sympathize with his struggles, though as a Protestant I have to be careful not to embrace too eagerly a negative portrayal of the Roman Catholic Church (Protestants have been known to do this). But while I can understand why O’Donnell felt hemmed in by the institutional forces of religion, I also found myself needing to raise questions.

Although I could critique this book on theological and historical grounds that wouldn’t seem to make much sense. That critique might sound defensive, and I’m not sure the author would find my critique all that compelling. So, for the most part I’ll leave those issues alone. What I would like to do is raise some questions about tendencies I see in the “spiritual but not religious” movement, which are exemplified in this book, that do concern me.

I’ll start with O’Donnell’s relationship with Roman Catholicism. It is clear that his understanding of Christian faith is wrapped up tightly with what he learned and experienced growing up in the Catholic Church, especially his education in Catholic schools, including those encounters with rather physically abusive nuns. This schooling introduced Tim O’Donnell to a rather narrow view of faith, one that was rigid and punitive. There were, of course, signs of grace here and there, but these seem to be the exceptions. Although O’Donnell knows that there are other forms of Christianity, including Protestantism, he doesn’t seem interested in them. Like many who emerge from the Catholic context it’s hard to break free of this orbit. As we often hear – once you’re a Catholic always a Catholic, even if you’re a lapsed one. So, much of his argument with institutional Christianity is wrapped up in his experiences of the Catholic Church. Ironically, even though he is disenchanted with traditional Christianity, it is this faith tradition that provides the foundation for his own reflections. This Catholic Faith provides the lenses through which he reinterprets his own experiences.

More problematic in my mind is what I’ll call the “infatuation with Gnosticism” that is so prevalent among many “spiritual but not religious” folks. The idea that the Gnostic texts were excluded from the canon by a narrow minded religious institution seems to give them added authority. Whether it is the recent hullabaloo over the Gospel of Judas or the popularization of gnostic gospels in The Da Vinci Code, the idea that the Church tried to suppress alternative versions of the Jesus story has caught on in the popular mind. In an age that distrusts institutions, this process of canonization, rather than being an example of divine providence, is a sign that the church knows something to be true that they don’t want out. And what is that truth? Well, often the truth is that there is a pathway to God that bypasses the institution. But what we don’t see in this engagement with the Gnostic texts is a recognition that Gnosticism tended to be elitist (after all the Gnostics saw themselves as possessors of secret knowledge), docetic (by and large they denied the value of the physical/material world), and they also tended to be anti-Jewish (Marcion – one of the heroes of Gnosticism – believed that the God of the Old Testament was the creator of the world – which was evil – and not the God of Jesus). The existence of these texts do remind us that the early Christian community was diverse, but I would question the enthusiasm with which their message is being received, without much further examination of them.

The biggest concerns that I have about this movement, which are exemplified by the life of the author, relate to two areas that I think are related. First, there is the issue of a moral/ethical vision, and the second has to do with community.

I’ll deal first with the matter of ethics/moral foundations. Although, the author appears, from his own self-description, to be a man of high moral standards – he exhibits these in his business practices – I’m left wondering about where these standards were derived. My sense is that they were instilled in him by his Catholic upbringing. Despite this, I don’t see much concern for social justice in this understandings of spirituality. He criticizes the Catholic Church for excluding women from the priesthood, but that seems to be part of his overall reaction to the narrowness of the institution. I may have missed something, so I’d be glad to hear from the author about his vision of social justice, but something that did stick out was his rather angry rejection of a statement by a Catholic college professor that wealth was evil. Since the author wants to include Jesus in his own spiritual self-understanding, I’m wondering what he makes of Jesus’ rather regular denunciations of a pursuit of wealth, including his call for the young man to sell all his possessions and give to the poor or his suggestion that one can’t serve God and wealth. So my question is – if I am my own religious authority, who is in the position to challenge my moral/ethical standards?

The final concern that I have about the “spiritual by not religious” movement has to do with the individualism that is prevalent in this movement. O’Donnell, like many in this movement, has essentially created his own religion to fit his own perspectives (yes I know that to some degree we all do this). He is, by his own admission, the author and founder of his faith, which is rooted in the supposition that we are all somehow God incarnate. That is, while he honors Jesus, he believes that we can all be Christs, and he tries to interpret biblical texts in that light. As I read his interpretations of these texts, many of which are filtered through his embrace of the gnostic gospels, I found his interpretations to stretch the meanings beyond what they’re capable of holding, but again my focus isn’t on the doctrinal side of things. My concern is with the individualism that undermines the call to community. O’Donnell doesn’t say this, but there is a sense that if Christ is within us, and that all we need to do to find God is to look within, then why would we need a community? We are essentially spiritually self-sufficient. And if we’re self-sufficient then no one or no institution can challenge my sense of what is true and what is right. In the end, not only is the institution unnecessary (and human-made), but community is unnecessary? But as I read the biblical texts I see in them a call to community. Paul speaks of the church not as institution but as the body of Christ. It is a living being, in which every member is important. I’m wondering what will happen to the spiritual lives of those who have no connection to a community that challenges and supports one as one takes the journey of faith. I struggled with how to respond to this book, because I don’t want to come off as defensive of my tradition or the institution. I must admit that the institution and the tradition needs critique. At the same time, while I found O’Donnell’s book to be a well-written and expressive of his own journey, I believe that there are important questions that need to be posed to those who have embraced this “spiritual but not religious” idea. And these questions need to be asked now while this movement is growing at an increasingly fast pace, so fast that it is in many ways leading to the emptying out of the church that employs folks like me. So, I do have a vested interest in this conversation.

What we on the institutional side of things can learn here is that there is a strong sense of disappointment and frustration among the populace. The traditional institutions aren’t speaking to their hearts or their minds. The question is why? Why do people feel the need to strike out on their own? At the same time, I wonder if this new movement pushes the pendulum of institutionalism too far in the other direction, and what that will mean for people’s journeys as they become less and less connected to traditions once held? These are all questions that I pose to further the conversation, and not cut it off.

This review is offered as part of the TLC Book Tours,

which provided this review copy.