The Mystical Christ

by Michael Maciel

by Michael Maciel

We have two models by which we can form our society, both of which are based on love — love as expressed within families and love as expressed between families. And since we’re talking about love, both of these models are understandably positive and life-affirming. 

So, at the outset, we can dispense with the negative models, which by definition are not loving. An example might be the authoritarian model for writing laws and the punitive model for enforcing them. Neither of these is based on love but on power and control. Since we are talking about forces that support and sustain societal health, we will focus on them and not their opposites.

The loving models — the means by which we can grow and develop our society in constructive and sustainable ways — are based on the Family model and the Friendship model. 

The Family model is based on the relationship between parents and child — provider, nurturer, dependent. It has three components — father, mother, and child. Let’s look at all three in terms of the love-bond — the primordial force that unites all families:

The primary quality of a loving father is encouragement. The primary quality of a loving mother is nurturance. And the primary quality of a loving child is devotion: 

• To encourage (to instill courage) is to prepare a child for taking risks in the world. Obviously, this can only happen after a child has reached a certain age, spanning a seven-year range between seven and fourteen. Before then, children are simply too young to venture too far from home. But once they’re more or less independent, they must be taught what’s safe and what’s not and who’s friendly and who’s not. 

• To nurture is to love and protect. Infants, toddlers, and children under seven need constant supervision. They need help in learning how to work their bodies and to navigate within a controlled environment. They need to trust their parents and to feel their love, both physically and emotionally. But, most of all, they need to know, in their flesh and bones, that they are part of their family, that they belong. 

• From a physical standpoint, a child’s primary relationship with his or her parents is one of absolute dependency. But on the psychic or soul level, the relationship is one of devotion — a love of that which is greater than oneself. Devotion is the positive acceptance of the dispensation of a manifest ideal. It is aspirational. Parents are the sun, the moon, and the stars to their children, who orbit them with admiration and unquestioning loyalty. 

The Friendship model is based on shared affections, tolerance, and trust. Whereas the Family model gives society cohesion and stability, the Friendship model gives it the ability to adhere to like-minded others. It gives society the opportunity to grow. 

The Friendship model has three primary components:

• Family bonds are universal, but they exist within the larger context of culture and geography, both of which add their unique flavor and ideals. So, families that share the same culture and locale will also share similar affections for them. Cultures consist of a shared history and a destiny to which all within the culture aspire. This creates lateral (rather than hierarchical) relationships based on deep similarities, thus producing friendships grounded in shared affections. 

• However, no matter how similar they are, the perceptions and interpretations of a shared culture and locale will vary, sometimes substantially, because the roles individuals play in their culture vary. This leads to learning how to abstract from a variety of experiences the commonalities among them and to recognize that outer differences are tolerable as long as the foundational verities remain intact. Societies can tolerate differences in interpretation of its innate qualities by its members, as long as that which is being interpreted is the same for everyone, meaning that everyone must agree upon the historical narrative they share and look forward to the same destiny they envision. 

• As long as these requirements are met, everyone will know what to expect of each other. There will be a certain level of conformity in all aspects of their relationships. In fact, expressions of that conformity will be taken as a declaration of each person’s loyalty to and respect for each other. And because of the cultivated tolerance that allows for reasonable differences in interpretation of shared goals and behaviors, the code of conformity will be wide enough to allow for experimentation and growth. When these parameters are well-established in a society’s collective consciousness, trust will abound and will thus establish a friendly environment for a viable commonwealth. Everyone will prosper. 

When a society possesses the proper amounts of cohesion (family bonds) and adhesion (shared values) to hold itself together over time, the need for authoritarian power diminishes accordingly. Cooperation, not coercion, governs its activities. Crime, too, is handled adequately, because what constitutes a crime stands out in bold relief against the backdrop of universally accepted norms. The letter of the law becomes more malleable because the spirit of the law is so clear. And because the relationships among the people are predicated on family and friendships, the penalties for crime will be tempered with compassion and thus be more just. 

In order for this ideal version of society and its governance to be practical, there must be a certain degree of autonomy at every jurisdictional level, both regional and national. Each city and state must be free to express its local culture and geographical uniqueness. Mandated, large-scale conformities at the national level must be flexible enough to accommodate the sovereignties of individual communities — and vice versa. 

But without a nationally shared grand narrative, this would be impossible. America’s shared grand narrative is “Liberty and Justice for All,” which is set within the context of “E Pluribus Unum” — out of many, one. The latter is the expectation that disparate peoples who have different ethnicities and religious loyalties can nonetheless peacefully coexist, as long as their national identity is the same. 

It’s a schema that places secular values front and center, while at the same time relies on ethnic and religious values to nurture and form the culture from within. It’s the “out of many” part of the equation that fosters diversity, not only of ethnicities and religions but innovation, too. And it’s the “one” part of the equation that makes it possible for everyone to live in peace and prosperity. 

Perhaps it’s the fact that the world is divided into continents separated by oceans that makes social boundaries and national sovereignty so important, because the differences between cultures (driven by religion, ethnicity, history, and geography) have made the gulf between some of the world’s cultures too wide, at least for now, to permit them to work closely together, at least at a cultural level. Trade is almost always feasible, but even it is not enough to bridge cultural differences when they are extreme. 

The countries that work together best are those that have interacted the most. And this has largely been the result of geography, not differences in intelligence or race. Cities with access to water navigation have advanced the fastest because long-distance travel was relatively easy, which made sharing goods and ideas easier, too. On the other hand, landlocked societies were slower to advance, both technologically and culturally — the more isolated, the less opportunity for economic growth and development. 

So, the ability of the nations of the world to peacefully work together depends on the cohesiveness that national sovereignty provides along with their attraction to the unique values of other nations, as long as those values aren’t too different from their own. Of course, the Family model has to be sufficiently established, lest one nation becomes too enamored of the other, getting lost in the glamor and forgetting its own values. Too much of a good thing is, well, not good.

Finally, it’s not enough to simply pray for world peace, unless prayer also includes action. It takes work to understand the “other,” but it also takes work to understand one’s own culture and its values. And that takes an appreciation for the labors of those who have gone before us — their accomplishments and the values that made those accomplishments possible. Unless a society honors its fathers and mothers, it will fail. And unless it continually strives to reinterpret and re-articulate those values — to resurrect them from the dead — its culture will solidify and precipitate out of the lifestream of the world. The sands of history will cover them and they will be remembered no more. But when a society calls its members friends rather than subjects — treating them as equals and not as children — that society will live for a thousand years.

by Michael Maciel

If sin is “missing the mark,” then we have to ask, what are we aiming at?

You may have heard the adage, “I reached the top of the ladder of success only to discover that it was leaning against the wrong wall.” Also, “No one on their deathbed wishes they had spent more time at the office.” A sinful life doesn’t necessarily mean a life of debauchery. It could also mean being unfaithful to our heart’s desire, to our calling, or even ignoring the still, small voice within. How true are you to YOU?

If our sense of God is one of a strict and judgmental father, then repentance feels like avoiding punishment through shame and self-hatred, but if God is a loving, nurturing Mother (or Father) then repentance feels more like turning away from bad choices and rededicating ourselves to what the angel in the Book of Revelation calls “your first love.”

What worldly concerns have replaced our heart’s desire? Isn’t that the worst kind of betrayal? What has our soul come here to do, to learn, to contribute, or to share? What unique role are we here to play? What would the world be missing if we as unique individuals weren’t here? These are virtuous questions.

Perhaps the worst way to miss the mark is to not aim at anything at all, to just simply give up. That’s when we sink into despair. That’s when we say to ourselves, why even try? What’s the use? Or, I just want to die. What could be more sinful than that? 

Well, actually, a lot. Sometimes, our despair can turn into resentment. We can start to hate God for creating such a pointless and painful world. And if our hatred becomes strong enough, it can turn into a pathological desire for revenge. Like Cain, who killed his brother Abel because God favored him more than him, we begin to hate anyone who is more fortunate than we are. 

We might even internalize our hatred and start to hate everything good in ourselves. We become cynical. We start to regard our own feelings of kindness and compassion as evidence that we are weak and pathetic. We might even decide to turn that self-hatred out onto the world and find perverse comfort in harming others. Once we start down that path, hell starts to feel like home, and we can’t get there fast enough. And if we can take others with us, so much the better. 

The best thing about having good aim is that we will eventually hit our target. But life doesn’t end there. Each accomplishment opens new doors of opportunity. Having climbed the top of our hill, our horizons suddenly expand. We not only see farther, we also see where we have been. And that can inform our future choices. That’s how we grow. 

We might also, having gotten what we wanted, realize that it’s not all that we hoped it would be. A course-correction might be in order. But that’s good too, right? Isn’t that the way it usually happens? Our efforts make us stronger and more mature, so our goals in life naturally evolve as we evolve. What we thought was the top of the mountain now proves to be just one step towards a loftier peak. How exciting! What new adventures lie ahead? Having accomplished one goal, we can’t wait to try for another. Success breeds success. Life begets more life. The strong get stronger. Our cup runneth over. 

Missing the mark isn’t so bad, as long as we keep shooting. In fact, not missing the mark might just mean that our target is too close, too easy, and too tepid. And souls aren’t usually tepid. Our soul is that part of us that is always face-to-face with God, and God is a consuming fire. So when we are in touch with our soul, our hearts are inflamed. And like actual fire, our lives are in a constant state of change. Everything we touch is affected by the heat. People are either drawn to us or they run like hell. Few are lukewarm. 

So, it’s important that we kindle that fire. It’s important that we be true to our “first love,” our soul’s longing to blaze towards the heavens. It’s not what we want to do, it’s what we have to do. That’s what matters. And it’s the “have to” part that sometimes makes our lives uncomfortable. When it comes to soul work, there will always be pain. Fire burns. But it also forges. It purifies. It enlivens. It opens the way. If we resist it, we will always be running from it, but when we accept it into our hearts, it lights the way ahead. It’s better to run towards something good than to run away from something bad. But hey, most of us need a little of both, don’t we. That’s life. And given the inertia of this world, that’s a good thing. 

by Michael Maciel

I’m thinking that the opposite of being naive isn’t being smart, as though naivete is ignorance by definition, but rather, the opposite of being naive is to be cynical. However, both words have negative connotations, so we have to strip them of that before we can keep from using them inappropriately.

Naivete means the lack of experience, wisdom, or judgement — easy to see why it’s a negative. But what if the word isn’t as accurate as we suppose? Or, if it is accurate (many people do lack those things, after all), what if it’s sometimes used inappropriately? How would we know unless we think about it more carefully?

If we can look at cynicism for a moment (also regarded as a negative), which means an inclination to believe that people are motivated purely by self-interest, we can also ask ourselves if we sometimes use that word inappropriately, as well. Usually, when we call someone a cynic, we imply that they disagree with whatever it is they’re being cynical about. We tend to use it as a pejorative, especially when they are being cynical about something we believe. But in reality, they might just be applying critical thinking. 

These two concepts, cynicism and critical thinking, are easy to conflate, but they are entirely different. Critical thinking means the objective analysis and evaluation of an issue in order to form a judgment. It’s not prejudicial thinking but analytical thinking. It’s analyzing an issue in order to arrive at an informed opinion. 

In the same way, we use the word naive to imply that a person is not well-informed, when in fact they may be idealistic. But that word, too, has a negative connotation. It implies, whether correctly or not, that the person is somehow disconnected from reality and that they are not looking at the sense data. Perhaps a better word for this possible misinterpretation of the word naive would be “creative.” 

Creative thought — at its best — uses all of the available data as a springboard to launch into the realm of the possible. It’s climbing on top of what’s known and then looking out from there to see the unknown. But it’s a special kind of unknown: it’s not what we know that we don’t know, it’s what we don’t know that we don’t know. For instance, we know that we don’t know the secret of anti-gravity. We know that. But it’s what we don’t know that we don’t know that holds the secret. That’s why we haven’t figured it out yet. 

So just as the word cynicism can keep us from recognizing legitimate critical thinking, so can the word naive keep us from recognizing legitimate creative thought. 

We seem to be born with a proclivity to one or the other of these ways of looking at the world. We are either questioning what we see or we are busy imagining what would be ideal. And just as the human nervous system has two separate mechanisms to control our metabolism (one to speed it up and one to slow it down), so do our minds have mechanisms to do the same thing — to either construct increasingly optimal solutions to the problems of life or to fact-check those ideas so as to avoid unforeseen consequences should we act on them. 

One is an exploratory mindset, and the other is a protective mindset.  One ventures beyond the known to discover what’s new, and the other wants to conserve what has already been established. One says, “We can do this better,” and the other says, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Obviously, either mindset without the other would quickly lead to disastrous outcomes. It would be like trying to drive a car with a gas pedal but no brakes, or vice versa. We would either crash or simply go nowhere. 

The world seems to be divided almost equally down the middle between those who think creatively and those who think critically. And isn’t it wonderful. The outer things that differentiate us, such as gender, socioeconomic status, general intelligence, and education, don’t have any bearing on which of these two mindsets we have. We seem to be born with them. This makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, because we need both to survive and thrive. Nature has somehow ensured that both will be equally represented in the population across multiple dimensions. 

While we can strive to understand that frame of mind to which we are not native, we can never become it. It will always be extrinsic to our nature. This is a good thing, because it guarantees that we can remain objective. And objectivity is essential to critical thinking, and to some extent creative thinking, as well. (Objectivity and identity are another innate dichotomy but are a topic in their own right, perhaps better explored in a separate article.) For this reason, both modalities would do well to respect each other, because though they are complementary, they will always be at odds. 

Trying to blend the two would be counterproductive. In fact, emphasizing their differences — as long as it’s done within a framework of mutual respect — maximizes the advantages of both and safeguards against either inadvertently drifting away from reality. As Albert Einstein said, “Science without religion is lame; religion without science is blind” — just one example of this psychological polarity.  But interject too much of one into the other, and the strengths of both are diminished. A healthy antagonism is required, and both need to keep their watchful eye on the other and never let the gulf between them get too wide. 

Another example is whether the government should be entirely a secular affair, or should it allow itself to be informed by religious values? One could argue that the overzealous separation of the two has led to the exaggerated consumerism that is polluting our planet — also, the rise in teen suicides and inordinately high divorce rates. But again, these are topics for another time. It does seem, however, that this fundamental polarity is universal. 

Peacefully coexisting with those on the opposite side of this cognitive divide requires open dialogue within the context of mutual benefit. We have to assume that we both want the same thing — a better world to live in. And unless the other person has proven him or herself to be pathologically predisposed towards ruin and annihilation, we have to give them the benefit of the doubt in this regard. We must never accuse them of being evil simply because their views of a better world differ from ours. This is true diversity — viewpoint diversity.

No one knows the perfect condition in which everyone can thrive, but we do know that forcing everyone to be the same is not it. Many societies have tried this approach, and every one of them ended in a bloodbath, without exception. Those that have survived for any appreciable amount of time have allowed for open dialogue and compromise. This holds true for large groups as well as intimate relationships. When we recognize this fundamental difference between us, it opens the door to a world that is both stable and innovative. 

by Michael Maciel

It seems to me that there are two things that drive meaning in our lives: love and purpose. In the presence of love, even loving one’s cat, pushes the need for meaning to the side, if only momentarily. And with enough purpose, meaning is…well, self-evident.

But when either of these fail us, meaninglessness can swoop in like a dive bomber and blow us to pieces. Which raises the question: What, in the lack of love and purpose, can make our lives meaningful? And why is meaningfulness important at all? Is there ever a point where life just is, and can that be enough? Not just enough, but arrestingly enough, mind-stoppingly enough, where the only danger becomes death by astonishment?

I wouldn’t want to give up meaning or the quest for it. It makes everything so…interesting. But without that place beyond meaning, without the bedrock of the sheer amazement that comes when we encounter being itself, what is there to sustain us when love and meaning fail?

Is this, then, the thing we should seek before all else, the thing that, once acquired, would bring us to the place where everything matters, where if one thing were plucked away, the whole universe would tremble?

Or is it that meaning itself is meaningless and that that’s okay? Perhaps it’s when the heart is empty that it is at its fullest; and the will, when stripped of its banner, becomes the deadliest force on the battlefield of life?

No one wants to be reduced to the mere instinct to survive, but perhaps it’s that instinct, the urge to move forward at any cost, that is the pulse of God, the pounding of which can grind everything—even meaning—to powder.

Is this the place, the center of gravity of our being, which is empty and yet holds the promise of everything, the thing without which the most meaningful life will one day be catastrophically undone?

In the face of that—the absolute impoverishment of spirit—what might be revealed? And would we be able to bear it, knowing that to enter into its field would be the utter subsumption of us?

Perhaps the rawness of life is nothing less than terrifying, and that that’s why we pursue meaning and endlessly strive to keep it alive. Maybe it’s our flight away from the terror that keeps the details of our lives in their swirl and locks us into the never-ending quest for anything that will distract us from the sheer magnitude of our awakening.

(Just a few thoughts in the early hours of a new decade.)

by Michael Maciel

How much of our world is held together by our beliefs? I mean, held together in such a way that if our beliefs were disrupted, our whole world, including our sense of self, would fall apart.

Consciously, we might wish that we could escape the bounds of our limitations, but subconsciously, we might not want that at all. Who’s to say that our limitations aren’t there for our benefit? Perhaps our soul knows something we don’t. Perhaps our limitations are our gestation chamber, like an egg, that if removed would kill us, not just physically but spiritually, too.

For instance, how often have you wished you could win the lottery? But, did you know that lottery winners often wind up worse off than before? Why do we believe that having lots of money would cure all of our problems? It might appear that way to our conscious mind, but the subconscious knows better. (Remember, the subconscious is the mind of the soul.) It knows that the integrity of our social circles would be jeopardized should we suddenly come into a vast fortune. Would we be willing to undergo the shift in perception our friends and family have of us? Probably not. Even if you gave everyone a million dollars, it still wouldn’t be enough. They would still resent you or hound you endlessly for more.

Then there’s the problem of addiction. Most people’s addictions are kept relatively manageable by their lack of cash. But give them access to whatever they want, and it’s only a matter of time before they self-destruct. As Paul Simon said in one of his songs, “Thinking I had supernatural powers, I slammed into a brick wall.” Our soul knows this, because it’s been there before.

Using the Law works best when we stay close to the edges of our beliefs. We can push the envelope; we just can’t push it too far. We have to honor the forebears of our perceived reality. If we reject them outright, there will be a massive pushback from the subconscious mind. All hell will break loose.

Take the example of flying. If we pray for the ability to fly, you know, like Superman, it’s not likely that that will happen. It’s just too far removed from our perceived reality. We don’t have wings, we are subject to gravity, and we all know that people can’t fly. Only birds can fly. But, people have wanted to fly for centuries, maybe thousands of years. They finally worked it out on December 17, 1903, near Kill Devil Hills, about four miles south of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Sixty-three years later, we flew to the moon.

As astronaut Jim Lovell said when someone said it was a miracle, “No, it wasn’t a miracle. We just decided to go.” The most powerful force we know of is the human mind. When we decide to do something—really decide—it gets done. The Law of Mind is the mechanism by which that happens. “Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.” – William Hutchison Murray

Using the Law of Mind is an integral part of spiritual practice. It’s not enough to accept whatever comes along as though it were the will of God. When conditions aren’t right, it’s up to us to fix them. If it’s raining, we go inside. If it’s hot in the city we go to the beach. If people are dying of cholera, we invent a sewage system. These are fixes. But what if we’re shooting for the moon? What if we want a new job or a better relationship or even a new car? What prevents us from having those things? Is it God? I don’t think so. The only thing God wants, as far as I can tell, is that we get our prayers answered. THAT is the will of God.

Our approach to life should not be passive. We were created in the image and likeness of God. And God, first and foremost, is a creator. If we want to be like God, if we want to “please” God, we need to create. There are two ways of looking at the world. One is to see it as an aggregate of things and stuff—inanimate and mindless. The other way is to see it as infinite potential, to see all things in terms of possibility. We either say, “What must I put up with today?” or, “How can I turn my circumstances into opportunities?” One is the path of needless suffering. The other is taking on the mind of Christ.