Theory in Practice
What Am I Waiting For?
For the past seven years, I’ve been all about Theory.
This hasn’t been intentional.
The exercise has been concerned with what some might call “First Things.”
Without knowing I was even doing it, I went through a fairly arduous process of reading, listening, and thinking about what we are as minded beings, and how we relate to the cosmos as spiritual persons.
I went through a little theory of mind, a bit of science (cognitive science, psychology, and physics), a fair amount of metaphysics, and a little theology.
Like millions of other people, I was spurred by the New Atheists, inspired by the Mindfulness movement, strengthened by the Stoics, found solace and respite in religious communities, and had dozens of moments where I lost my faith and found it again.
Recently, I heard David Bentley Hart saying something helpful, although I can only remember it in paraphrase.
He was asked how his theological work could be of help to people in daily practice and his answer was something like, “I hope that it is of no help at all.”
The reason he answered this way was that he felt people’s spiritual practice should not be hung up in “theory” — that their personal devotions should come from a more personal and practical place.
Our relationship with the One is strongest when we’re not distracting ourselves with a lot of mental gymnastics.
For all of these years, though, I was trying to get a place where I could pray to God without at the same time feeling that I was being intellectually dishonest — that I was not “believing” one thing while doing another.
In AA, they have a way of dealing with this — go to meetings.
The idea is that, through repetition, one will “come to believe” in the merits of the program as one’s intellectual reservations gradually succumb to the Beauty, Goodness, and Truth revealed in the consistent apprehension of a collective change in the right direction.
Sometimes, though, it’s also helpful to be reminded by the people one was already studying, as I was last week.
It was Epictetus the Stoic who leapt from the screen, with something from the Enchiridion (handbook) which I was surprised I didn’t remember at all.
The advice was something that I technically already knew, but somehow also needed to hear (slightly paraphrased here for clarity):
1 How long will you keep stalling, denying yourself the best things, and denying the art of Reason?
You have learned and accepted the principles. What sort of teacher are you waiting for that it makes sense to put off your work?
You are no longer a child, but a fully grown adult.
If you keep acting like you have time to spare, neglecting your duties and failing to pay attention to yourself and your actions then without realizing it you will make no progress — and you’ll be dead by the time you get around to becoming enlightened.
2 Make up your mind, therefore, before it is too late, that the fitting thing for you to do is to live as a mature adult who is making progress, and let everything which seems to you to be best be for you a law that must not be transgressed.
And if you meet anything that is difficult, or easy, or vain, or shameful, remember that the contest is now — these are the Olympic games, you can not delay, and everything depends on this single day and single action.
3 This is the way Socrates became what he was — by paying attention to nothing but his Reason in everything that he encountered.
And even if you are not yet a Socrates, still you ought to live as one who wishes to be a Socrates.
I have all the tools, all of the practices, all of the essential needs to be a good person.
And with the virtues of Courage, Justice, Moderation, and Wisdom, I can strive toward the Good, the Beautiful, and the True, empowered by my faith in the One and my Love for All.
With much admiration and affection, I am
Yours, Aboundingly, Aaron