In this second post on this topic, let me suggest two other areas where the temptation to absolutize one side of a matter at the expense of all others and, thus, to fall victim to “the simples,” Is massive.

One of those is in our struggle with moral choices.  What I want to say about this is applicable, I believe, to the context of all of our moral dilemmas, but allow me to use an example from the religious tradition I know best.  It began in the person of Jesus who presented his way of living to followers who had the vision and courage to try it.  It was not easy, and it involved difficult applications to hard decisions.  But it had nothing to do with creeds, or the New Testament, or with churches—they didn’t exist yet. It was a personal relationship that was vital and dynamic.

Whoever would have thought then that this would get reduced to some sort of finished system, to statements of belief, to orthodox formulas that help us figure out who belongs and who doesn’t? 

The tendency to reduce the journey of living faithfully by our moral compass to an easily codified set of affirmations, of “dos and don’ts,” to “lock it down” so I always know for sure when I’m coloring outside the lines, can be smothering and disheartening.  We would never THINK of doing that in any other realm—art or medicine or music or literature or science or business.  All of these are crucial and important, not in their simplicity, not because they are “locked down,” but because they are dynamic—because they endure over time and over various cultures, not in static shape but in changing expressions. 

So it is with our confrontations with those choices that define our intentions to live authentically within our religious and/or moral commitments—it is an adventure whose applications to the changing world in the decades to come will surely involve challenges different from the world in which I have lived my life. 

Does that mean there are no principles, no great truths, to be affirmed?  Oh, no—all religions and ethical canons have them and tend to share an amazing number of them.  It’s how we apply them that’s not simple.  To come back to the example I started with, if Jesus esteemed persons above all else as supremely valuable, as boundless in possibilities, and if he modeled that in his own life—as I believe he did—and I am to model that, is that simple in its application to the decisions I must make in my life?  Oh, no!  It is hugely complicated. 

If I believe that, it will churn my insides when I look at what the world around me does to persons.  If we truly believe that, it will set up choices that “the simples” won’t cover: it may sometimes cause us to go against the grain of corporate life, of institutional life, of political life, sometimes of church life.  Living that out, or a host of other moral principles, cannot be reduced to a creed or a set of rules—it’s an adventure that won’t yield to “the simples.”

And finally, to build on the concept of “outgrowing the simples,” let’s follow the notion of paradox a step further,and consider that our lives have two sides and how easy it is to emphasize one at the expense of the other.  I’m talking, on the one hand, about those hands-on, demanding aspects of our lives—work, family responsibilities, volunteerism, political activism—as well as the kind of practical expression of social and/or religious concern that feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, opposes repression, and works for reform in human life: in Jesus’ parable, the religion of the Good Samaritan.   It’s the behavioral side and I’m all for it. 

And then there’s that other side, the side of quiet reverence, and meditation—the celebration of mystery and the nourishment of the spirit.  How high the temptation is to give in to “the simples” and try to have one of these without the other—and with what disastrous results.  To put all the emphasis on retreat from the world is to run the risk of creating some unrealistic “happy place” where one can hide from inconvenient questions and from the cries of human suffering.  But to turn to energetic service without interior resources is to run on empty. 

I can choose any part of my life I wish and there are two aspects: activity and relaxation, giving and receiving, working hard and resting back.  Neither is much good without the other. 

Fosdick often used the metaphor of roots and branches.   Without branches, the tree casts no shade and bears no fruit.  But a tree without roots cannot stand. For many people these days the pressure to “branch out” is immense and, thus, the temptations to succumb to “the simples” and absolutize the energetic side of life at the expense of inner resources of replenishment are massive. 

One who cannot rest cannot work; one who cannot let go cannot hold on; one who cannot find footing cannot move forward—not ever!  And so, in those areas of our lives where it is called for, we do well to be aggressive, to put our backs into it.  But if we try that without achieving a rich spirit, then we will be like a tree in a high wind with roots too shallow to hold us up.  Another victim of “the simples”—of failing to come to terms with living “in the ceaseless tension of opposites.”

All of that said, I wouldn’t want to leave the impression that, because life is not “simple,” I’m saying that everything is relative and there is nothing worth our devotion.  On the contrary, conscientious commitment to an ideal or principle can and should cause us to take a stand.  Acknowledging our partial grasp of truth, that we “see through a glass darkly,”—or, in the words of Judge Learned Hand—quoting Oliver Cromwell—“I beg you . . . think it possible you might be mistaken”—doesn’t mean living one’s life forever on top of a question mark. 

There are some causes worth risking for, some “ditches worth dying in.”  The world in which we are now living—globally and especially in this country –is laying in front of us some stark and compelling “ditches.” I believe that we should know ours, choose them very carefully, and defend them vigorously. Even so, we live in the full knowledge that no matter how dedicated we are of the rightness of our cause, we can still fail. 

It is also worth remembering that the only people who never fail are those that never take a risk.  But a naive stance toward the adventure of living that always plays it safe never has the chance for exhilarating victory either.  Hopefully, we never fall victim to the simplistic blindness that misses the long-term possibilities for success in near-term failure or neglects to celebrate the courage that sometimes graces a losing effort.

To outgrow “the simples,” then, means to embark on life as a wrestling match and it means being willing to be bruised and roughed up from time to time.  All who understand that and who refuse to give in to the malady of “the simples,” will sometimes walk away from the encounter with a limp—and they will be the stronger for it.  Because if I can live courageously in the ceaseless tension of opposites, I have the opportunity to confront the complexities of my world realistically and responsibly. May it be so for all of us.

References/Sources

John R. Claypool III, “The Challenge of Maturity.”  Unpublished address, Mars Hill College, May 12, 1968.

Harry Emerson Fosdick, Living Under Tension. New York: Harper, 1941

T. Robert Mullinax, “The God of Light and Life.”  Unpublished sermon, First Baptist Church, Asheville, NC, January 15, 1995, p. 2.