Ancient Secrets: Chapters 2 & 3 Rumblings in Paradise

 

In Chapter 2, The Union of Opposites, Rabbi Meier presents his insights into the story of the Garden of Eden.  Here, I must express some irritation and disappointment with the Rabbi for an oversimplified but under-analyzed approach that I found ineffective on any level.

First, he offers a disappointing analysis of the relationship between Adam and Eve fitting the Rabbi’s agenda for his oversimplified idyllic impressions of domestic life. The opening section of the chapter offered some charming thoughts, but no insights, and none of the charming thoughts were original or stimulating.

In my opinion, the story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden must be understood as an allegory created by ancient people for a couple reasons.  One reason was ancient man’s natural curiosity and desire for understanding of his origin and place in nature.  In the ancient Jewish context, this entailed a paradox.  Their society was largely based on herding, so they would have noticed that while they were clearly superior because of the free will discussed by Meier, which placed them “above” their animals, the animals, themselves, led more carefree lives, spending much of their time sleeping in the shade, while their human owners toiled from sunrise to sunset.  This raised the question of why – if humans were “above” animals – should humans have to work much harder than their animals?  The story of Adam and Eve’s expulsion from the Garden provided a culturally appropriate explanation.

Another reason for the allegory – also arising from ancient Jewish culture – was legitimation of male domination.  Meier appropriately writes about the significance of guilt and lessons the story can teach in that regard, but I believe the original purpose was to reflect the position of women in that culture at that time.  Scapegoating is a natural human response to misbehavior, and women have been used by men as scapegoats since the dawn of time.

In the two preceding paragraphs I have oversimplified and under-analyzed for the sake of my own agenda, just as Meier did for his, and probably for the same reason.  These issues are so dense with meaning for our modern consideration – anthropologically, ethnically, culturally, historically, theologically and psychologically – that to do them justice would require the participation of experts in all those disciplines and thousands of pages of text. My point is, this is not a simple three-page discussion, and when a writer chooses to use it to make a point of his own, the limitations of his arguments should at least be revealed to the reader.

Two other comments before moving to the next chapter.  I can’t put my finger on the source right now, but I recall reading that Meier was a “Jungian” psychologist.  My experience with Jung, and Jungians, is that they are especially insightful about the psychological meaning of ancient folk tales.  The ones I have read I have found both highly relevant and intellectually fascinating.  Without getting too deep in the weeds, Jung developed a theory holding that humans in western cultures inherit and develop within their psyches images or models called “archetypes” the most commonly discussed of which are the romantic/sexual archetypes experienced by both men and women.  In brief, the theory is that within each psyche each individual carries an image of a perfect mate.  To grasp this concept, emphasis must be placed on “perfection” – perfect intelligence, perfect empathy, perfect sex, perfect appearance, etc.  Every now and then, a man (and his archetype) meets a woman (and her archetype), their archetypes match perfectly, and they experience the type of “love at first sight” poets and songwriters have written about for centuries.  The theory is that the man (at the mercy of his archetype) endows the woman with all the perfection he longs for, and vice versa.  This archetypal recognition ignites the passion, but, over time – sometimes days, sometimes years – the man begins to notice the woman’s imperfections (they were always there, but he could not see them because he was enthralled by the archetype), and vice versa.  To protect the psyche, the archetype causes the man to blame the woman for tricking him into thinking she was perfect, and vice versa.  The union dissolves in pain with great sense of relief and remorse.[1]  Maybe this scenario resonates with some of you.

Another Jungian concept explains guilt as psychic anger and disappointment caused by one’s violation of one’s own self-image.  In other words, my self-image is that I am not a thief.  If I stole something, the theft would violate my self-image and would trigger guilt. But a thief’s self-image is that he is a thief, so the same theft committed by the thief would not violate his self-image and would not trigger guilt.

I wanted to throw in the Jungian stuff – again way oversimplified to make the point – because of Meier’s use of the terms “soul mate” and “guilt.”  It’s not enough to simply tell folks to forget about finding a “soul mate” and get on with their lives.  If you’re talking to a 30-ish American who has endured one of these archetypal recognition passions, it’s likely they won’t pay much attention to your warning.  The power of the experience is much too strong to forget and move on without first gaining some understanding of what happened and why it failed.  The romantic archetype and the mechanics of guilt are the core of the story Meier relates from the Danish novel Niels Lyhne as appropriately stated by the female character as follows: “Day after day I will have to live with this stigma on my soul, and never will I meet anyone so degraded that I won’t know in my heart that I am even more degraded.”

Chapter 3, The Voice Within, is summarized by Meier in its last paragraph, thus: “So finally, we are told that being in touch with the voice inside of us is part and parcel of a much greater whole – making a connection with the beyond, being in touch with the stars, being in touch with the infinite, being in touch with God.”

In pains me to be negative about such lovely sentiments.  I’d much rather be able to praise Meier’s work than criticize, but – hey, I’m the one writing the blog, so you get my thoughts, and I’m gonna be honest with you.  I’d love to have another contributor who sees things differently write a response.  It might open my eyes.

In any event, I understood Chapter 3 to be an attempt to inspire the reader, but it was so superficial, it turned me off.  In college, my Sociology of Religion prof assigned the class to attend various religious services to observe and report our impressions.  I’ll never forget the Reverend A.A. Allen Revival Troup from Miracle Valley, Arizona, coming to town.  I’d seen a few TV preachers, but none in person until I went to the revival.  It was entertaining and appalling at the same time.  My impression was that the folks were there expecting divine intervention to solve their problems.  The message was simple – contribute money to the Rev, and God will answer your prayers.  It was reinforced over the course of several hours with stories about the good things that happened to people who made pledges and paid their pledges, and the bad things that happened to those who either didn’t pledge, or worse, pledged but didn’t pay. 

Meier is certainly not a scoundrel like the Reverend was.  But suggesting that God responds to bargaining, and telling people to listen to an inner voice without discrimination is not just foolish, it’s dangerous.  In our modern world, we are bombarded by stimuli constantly and indiscriminately.  Even in Abram’s day, there must have been some degree of mental illness or personality disorders that could be heard by the ancients as the voice of God.  In some primitive cultures, hallucinogenic drugs are used as sacred rites to hear the voice of the local deity.  Alcohol has also contributed to the phenomenon, even in our day.  How does one discriminate between a message from God and an influence from years of exposure to cultural pressures or mental illness?  Don’t get me wrong, I believe God communicates with us all the time, some of which involves dreams, or, in my case, sudden awakenings with answers I needed.  I firmly believe God has given me direction and helped me find solutions to many problems, so I suppose one day he may show me a path to take that would validate Meier.  But, before taking that path, I would appreciate it if you would have me checked for mental illness!

By the way, I think I understand what it means to be in touch with God, but can anybody explain to me what it means to make a connection with the beyond, be in touch with the stars, be in touch with the infinite??? Are these Christian concepts? 

Peace.

 

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[1] If you’re interested, the best resource I know of on this topic is Robert A. Johnson, We: Understanding the Psychology of Romantic Love.  Johnson has a series of books analyzing various aspects of the psyche with Jungian principles.  Amazon carries them all.

Ancient Secrets, Chapter 1 - A Surprising 20th Century Secret

 

Welcome to the St. Michael’s Episcopal Church book study group blog – The Seekers Blog. Our group has embarked on the discussion of a book titled Ancient Secrets by Rabbi Levi Meier, a chaplain, clinical psychologist and biblical scholar.  The subtitle of the book is Using the Stories of the Bible to Improve Our Everyday Lives.  It is divided into five parts, each containing several chapters, with each chapter focused on Rabbi Meier’s analysis of a familiar story from the Bible.

At our first discussion, the group covered the Introduction and Chapter 1, As in the Beginning, So Now.  Meier begins with the Genesis story of God’s creation of the world, and immediately introduces an interesting take on the distinction between the “light” created on the first day, and the creation of the sun on the fourth day.  According to Meier, the original Hebrew word for “light” is ohr meaning a “supernatural light” he describes as a “divine life force” and then declares: “So the first thing God created was life.”  This first life was originally indefinite, not taking on any particular character, described by Meier as: “a metaphysical, divine life energy that permeated the whole world.”  He then enlists the assistance of French philosopher Henri Bergson’s concept of elan vital and provides some examples of people who have enjoyed success in their spiritual lives by tapping into their inner “life force.”

As a metaphor, the concept of a “life force” may be useful as a stand-in for a bundle of qualities such as determination, courage, character, faith, devotion, selflessness and morality, but Meier goes much further.  His description of it as “a metaphysical, divine life energy” is not metaphorical.  He maintains, with Bergson, that the elan vital, or “vital energy” dwells within us, and can be transformed “into a creative force in our lives” citing specifically the principle from the laws of physics usually referred to as the “law of conservation of energy” holding that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but can be transformed.  These ideas were prominent during the height of Bergson’s career in the early 20^th Century, and were adopted by many eminent thinkers, including George Bernard Shaw and the Fabian Society.

As you may know, the Fabian Society was a group of social progressives who, among other things, were instrumental in the creation of the British Labour Party.  They were influenced by communism and embraced socialistic policies, and their membership famously included secularists, the irreligious, non-believers and atheists.  Although they espoused the virtues of the collective, their concept of collectivism did not include society’s undesirable classes. In fact, one of their principal objectives was to create a superior human race even if it entailed selective breeding and the elimination of inferior human genetic stock.

As I draft this blog, I am trying to choose my words carefully in order not to sensationalize the Fabian Society linkage to Meier.  The Fabians, founded in 1884, still exist and still support socialism.  Without commenting on the socialist system, it is important to understand that eugenics and elimination of so-called inferior people were “progressive” ideas openly promoted and supported by the Fabians until the crimes of the Nazis were discovered.  Modern liberal politicians and commentators often try to align conservatives with inhumane policies, but progressivism, as promoted by the Fabians, embraced concepts that would have meant extinguishing the “life force” within undesirables in order that their inferiority would not continue to burden those deemed worthy of contributing to the survival of the species.

C. S. Lewis was an outspoken critic of Bergson, Shaw and the Fabians.  In his essay The Weight of Glory Lewis wrote: "...even if all the happiness they promised could come to man on earth, yet still each generation would lose it by death, including the last generation of all, and the whole story would be nothing, not even a story, for ever and ever. Hence all the nonsense that Mr. Shaw puts into the final speech of Lilith,[1] and Bergson’s remark that the élan vital is capable of surmounting all obstacles, perhaps even death—as if we could believe that any social or biological development on this planet will delay the senility of the sun or reverse the second law of thermodynamics.”

Thus, in its original application, the concept of the “life force” was more than a mere metaphor.  It was a theory underpinning progressivism and factoring into intellectual society.  In our reading, Meier continues this tradition by giving the “life force” the status of “a metaphysical, divine life force.”  His use is clearly well-intentioned and benign, but he should have avoided the reference to Bergson, and he should have sanitized his idea in the form of a true metaphor rather than “a metaphysical, divine life force.”   Thinking about how he could have eliminated the criticism, it is obvious to us, as Christians, that the light that imbued the world with life on the first day of creation was the Holy Spirit!  As a Jew, Rabbi Meier is not a believer in the Trinity, and must reach for an alternate explanation for the work of the Holy Spirit.  But, as Christians, we need not – indeed, we cannot – believe in a “metaphysical, divine life force” that is not the Holy Spirit.   

I have read enough of Ancient Secrets to be of the opinion that Meier is sincerely concerned with sharing his insights into the meanings of Bible stories.  I do not think he is trying to subvert our beliefs, or attacking Christianity.  I look forward to our discussions of the points he raises, and, perhaps, having been somewhat taken aback by his first chapter, we can be aware of non-Christian ideas as we encounter them in the future.

Peace.

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] The last scene of Part V of Back to Methuselah, a play by George Bernard Shaw in which he envisions the development of mankind from the Garden of Eden into the distant future.  Lilith, a god/goddess half man and half woman, is revealed as the creator of Adam and Eve, and her oration at the end of the play bemoans humanity’s evolution into pure intellect having overcome entirely the need for the body.