Transcendentalism and a Spiritual Journey Pit Stop

Sometimes a friend needs to let rip with a rant.

And his e-mail late last night was just that.

His struggle, his frustrations with the dichotomy between message and messenger. Between fundamentalism and progressivism. Between the myth, the fantasy, the near-idolatry of literalism with the longing for an entity that is infinitely bigger than our petty little human notions of deity, ever on the edge of idolatry.

His realization that Plato of yore and Spong of now are lifting the veil, changing the paradigm. Salvaging and moving on.

He thinks he may be a transcendentalist.

I responded to him about my experience with transcendentalism.

To be something akin to a transcendentalist is something that entices me, on both a spiritual and intellectual level. But even though I have read considerable about them, and of them, I still don't really know just what the "is" "is" in being a transcendentalist. When I first became acquainted with that movement, I just thought of them as some kind of eccentrics back there in the 19th century. Intellectual, uppity, cerebral, eccentrics that thought they were just so much better than anybody else. And of course, they were non-Christian which made me dismiss them right out of hand.

I still find them very intriguing. Like they are on to something that most of us poor ignoramuses have no capacity to understand. Kind of like those Gnostic Gospels from the 1st century AD. But there is something deep within me that wants to "flirt" with this transcendentalist thing like it is forbidden, or naughty, or dangerous or something. Kind of like that psychological drive that some people have to do insanely crazy/risky things.

And so I can't call myself a transcendentalist 'cause I am not sure just exactly what one is yet. But I do suspect there is a fair degree of humanism in transcendentalism and some transcendentalism in humanism.

The Ranter responded in the morning.

Just a quick note before I leave for work. I have found one of the best summaries of transcendentalism in that little book you had sent, 'The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail.' [I had sent him the script for the play as a birthday present some time back.] It's in one of Henry's exchanges [Henry and Ellen, Ralph Waldo Emerson's daughter, are out in a row boat] with Ellen

E: My father says God has put everything here for men to use.

H: Oh? Did the good Father put us here to root and snort and glut ourselves like pigs? No, the pigs are better; pigs may be the most respectable part of the population: at least they consume the rubble instead of contributing to it. (In the distance, the WHISTLE of a a railroad TRAIN). Hear that? There goes a carload of two-legged pigs, off to market... emasculating the landscape with their tracks...

E: I rather like the railroad. Far better than a horse and carriage.

H: Why?

E: It's smoother - and much faster.

H: And dirtier. And uglier. Thank God men haven't learned to fly: they'd lay waste the sky as well as the earth... chop down the clouds!

E: (Somewhat puzzled) Is that in Transcendentalism, Mr Thoreau?

H: (Laughs) No. Yes, it is - in a way. Take your father. Do you love the man?

E: Of course.

H: Why?

E: He's my father.

H: Is he beautiful?

E: Dear me, no!

H: Does he create beauty? Paint? Play a musical instrument?

E: No.

H: (Pointing up, then down) Can he fly like that bird? Or swim, like that fellow down there?

E: He can swim a little. He used to. But not like that fish.

H: Nevertheless you love him.

E: Of course.

H: Your love transcends what your father is - and what he is not. Everything is capable of going beyond itself (E frowns a bit) Damnit, I've lost you. Put your hand in the water. (She does) Can you touch bottom?

E: (Reaching down) It's too deep.

H: For the length of your arm. Not for the length of your mind. (Has stopped rowing) Miss Sewell. Why should your reach stop with your skin? When you transcend the limits of yourself, you can cease merely living - and begin to BE!


I [My friend, the Ranter] think that's the point of transcendentalism. Being. Awareness of deeper meaning in things and other people, one that may not be physically palpable or immediately obvious, but that is there all the same. Speaking of God, it's a bit like Miss Sewell not being able to touch the bottom of the lake. I think of transcendentalism as a faith based on mind and reason, rather than myth and fantasy. Where more primitive mind comes up with myths and rituals, transcendentalists appeal to mind. Which is why they didn't seem to object to Jesus and his moral teachings, but did dismiss the miracles, rituals, more fanciful notions about him and organized religion in general. I suppose they were not Christian in our common meaning of the word, but there is something kind, compassionate and good-natured about them that I find quite Christ-like.

Wow! And my response back to the Ranter:

My copy of "The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail" is in box 1025, deeply buried in the front area of the truck [rental truck I am using to move to Washington State]. I have thumbed through the script, but have not actually read it. That is where you have a real advantage over me. You have only the actual words to go on.

I can still remember that performance. It did make an impression on me. It was held in a "fire-side" room of some kind at one of the UU churches in the Wash DC area. (The Bethesda, MD congregation). The audience, of maybe 50 or 60 people were evenly split on each side of the room, facing each other. We sat on backless benches. Kind of primitive.

The "stage" (i.e. jail cell) was to my left. In front of the platform jail cell, there was an open area between the two groups of spectators.

The row boat scene was done out in this open area. There was an actual small rowboat, set on a black-draped stand of some sort. And their conversation took place in that boat.

I didn't remember the essence of that conversation at all. It happened all so quickly. The actors were reading the script from the same book that you have. They only had 3 rehearsals, so this was a "reading" and not necessarily a "play" being performed. But even so, they were exceptional. The people chosen for the main characters: HDT, Emerson, his wife, his daughter, HDT's brother, the other guy in the jail cell . . . they really did make it truly come to life.

But I have to confess. Yes. Damn it! I was infatuated with the guy that played HDT. He was probably in his mid twenties, a small, thin guy. Very sensitive, very expressive, and the theatrical makeup gave him a look that I just wanted to leap up there and hold him and hug him and cuddle him and nuzzle him. Yeah. I fell in love with him.

And that brings me to the lesson that I think we are both learning from this little side trip on a spiritual adventure.

There is a difference between the message and messenger.

I fell in love with the messenger (The actor playing HDT). I missed the message.

And on a bigger, more pragmatic scale, to love the messenger is not necessarily to love the message. Hell, one may not even know the message at all. From what I read today, that is a stark problem with evangelicals in the US, they got themselves so wrapped up in the politics of hate: hate against gays, against women rights, against brown people, against HIV/AIDs people, the poor, the welfare cheats, the unions, and on and on and on, they don't even know what the essence of Christianity is all about and are virtually ignorant of the social gospel of Jesus' mission.

To love the message is not necessarily to love the messenger. And that is where the very liberal, progressive churches like the UU's come in, also the point that Spong makes. And Murrey with his humanism book.

And like the messenger HTD, the messenger Jesus is seen as just that, a messenger. Both by the fundamentalists and the transcendentalists. Where the fundamentalists find the messenger to be someone to oggle and google and gush all over with love, love, love like these mindless contemporary evangelical songsfests do, the transcendentalists, humanists, Deists find that abhorrent. I find it totally unnerving to be in, or to watch, these evangelical singing services with people waving their arms in the air and rapturously in love with their very own personal idol of the persona of Jesus. And furthermore, just what persona of Jesus is the one that should be recognized?

So thanks so much for pointing out that little experience from HDT.

Perhaps I have tried to make transcendentalism far too complicated. Perhaps it is basically so simple that I just haven't recognized it,

I will need to read, again, for the first time, some works on transcendentalism. And all of that stuff is in another box, buried deep in the front of the truck.

But it did give me an idea for your birthday present. I think you will really like it.

And our respective spiritual journeys have made a very refreshing pit stop.

The Refectory Manager