Seen and heard today at Divine Service: "Thou Visitest the Earth"

Maurice Greene's beautiful "Thou Visitest the Earth," his composition based on today's  Psalm 65. Here it's sung (exquisitely!) by the Choir of New College, Oxford.  (Listen to more from this great choir here, at their webcast page.)



The Communion Hymn was St. Thomas Aquinas' beautiful Adoro te devote ("Humbly I adore Thee, verity unseen").  The English words of the hymn (#314 in the 1982 Hymnal) are copyright, but here's a version in Latin - sung by "The Cathedral Singers, Richard Proulx (conductor)" - with a metrical English translation below:

Adoro te devote, latens Deitas,
Quæ sub his figuris vere latitas;
Tibi se cor meum totum subjicit,
Quia te contemplans totum deficit.

Visus, tactus, gustus in te fallitur,
Sed auditu solo tuto creditur.
Credo quidquid dixit Dei Filius;
Nil hoc verbo veritátis verius.

O memoriale mortis Domini!
Panis vivus, vitam præstans homini!
Præsta meæ menti de te vívere,
Et te illi semper dulce sapere.

Pie Pelicane, Jesu Domine,
Me immundum munda tuo sanguine:
Cujus una stilla salvum facere
Totum mundum quit ab omni scelere.

Jesu, quem velatum nunc aspicio,
Oro, fiat illud quod tam sitio:
Ut te revelata cernens facie,
Visu sim beátus tuæ gloriæ. Amen



    Prostrate I adore Thee, Deity unseen,
    Who Thy glory hidest 'neath these shadows mean;
    Lo, to Thee surrendered, my whole heart is bowed,
    Tranced as it beholds Thee, shrined within the cloud.

    Taste, and touch, and vision, to discern Thee fail;
    Faith, that comes by hearing, pierces through the veil.
    I believe whate'er the Son of God hath told;
    What the Truth hath spoken, that for truth I hold.

    On the Cross lay hidden but thy Deity,
    Here is hidden also Thy Humanity:
    But in both believing and confessing, Lord,
    Ask I what the dying thief of Thee implored.

    Thy dread wounds, like Thomas, though I cannot see,
    His be my confession, Lord and God, of Thee,
    Make my faith unfeigned ever-more increase,
    Give me hope unfading, love that cannot cease.

    O memorial wondrous of the Lord's own death;
    Living Bread, that giveth all Thy creatures breath,
    Grant my spirit ever by Thy life may live,
    To my taste Thy sweetness never-failing give.

    Pelican of mercy, Jesus, Lord and God,
    Cleanse me, wretched sinner, in Thy Precious Blood:
    Blood where one drop for human-kind outpoured
    Might from all transgression have the world restored.

    Jesus, whom now veiled, I by faith descry,
    What my soul doth thirst for, do not, Lord, deny,
    That thy face unveiled, I at last may see,
    With the blissful vision blest, my God, of Thee. Amen

Today's lovely collect is this one:

Almighty and everlasting God, increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and charity; and, that we may obtain what you promise, make us love what you command; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

This is another very ancient one; from the 6th Century at least, given the reference in Hatchett to the Leonine Sacramentary.  His (Hatchett's) Commentary says that:

The prayer is among a series for use at Vespers in the Leonine sacramentary (no.598).  The Gelasian appoints it as the initial prayer of the eighth of the sixteen Sunday Masses (no. 1209), and the Gregorian supplement has it as the collect (no. 1168) for the fourteenth Sunday after (the) Pentecost (octave).  The Sarum missal and earlier Prayer Books associate it with the fourteenth Sunday after Trinity.  The message is clear and forthright:  only if we love what God commands can we render cheerful obedience, and for this we need the gifts of faith, hope, and charity.  The Latin form as "that we may deserve to obtain what you promise," but Cranmer eliminated any idea of merit from the collect.

Good old Cranmer, emphasizing Grace above all - and that's a good idea, too, in my view.   That theme goes very well with the motet above as well, which exalts the good gifts of God.  It's also perfect for the Gospel reading for today, the story of the Publican and the Pharisee; that one's entirely about the centrality of Grace.

I was thinking about "gratitude" today; it's normal to want to express it for the beauty of the world, and for other good and pleasing things (including Maurice Greene's musical talent!).


My dog and I took a nice long walk in the hills today, and got our blood rushing and our cheeks all rosy - and then we went to the dog park, where we saw a Jack Russell Terrier and a German Shepherd, both puppies, chasing 2 Italian greyhounds around the place.  (They never came close to catching them.)  A Bernese Mountain Dog got into the act, too, and a couple of mutts, including mine.

It was a beautiful day, and the dogs were loving it too.   Easy to understand the Psalmist's desire to thank God for "crowning the year" with such a day.....

Salvation and A.A.

I'm really enjoying talking with Lee and Christopher these days about (big theology word coming!) soteriology and things like that. Lee's latest post is called Participatory Soteriology and the Shape of Christian Life Together.

(The discussion came out of Lee's post about the latest Episcopal adventure, the vote to "rehabilitate" Pelagius in the Diocese of Atlanta.  Listen:  maybe Pelagius really didn't say things attributed to him by Augustine; I have no issue with "correcting the mistakes of written history" - but is this actually the most important possible project for Episcopalians at the present moment?  I can't imagine that it could be.)

Anyway, I'm worrying the subject of "Grace" these days, and what role it plays - or ought to play - in Christian faith, and in particular how we can fix what I see as our huge problem with "content" and the teaching (or, rather, not) of same in the Episcopal Church.

I'm coming to think that Grace is, more than likely, the most important idea in Christianity - and of course, as I always do, I'm tending to view these things through A.A. eyes. And that is perfectly OK, since A.A. descends directly from the 1920s-era Oxford Group, whose founder was a Swiss Lutheran pastor.  Sam Shoemaker, one of the group's leaders in the United States and a very early A.A. supporter (not an alcoholic himself), was the (Episcopal) rector of the parish now known as Calvary-St. George's in Manhattan.

A.A. is the example par excellence of Grace, in fact:  those who recover in the program recognize, sometimes early on and sometimes much, much later, that recovery is solely on account of the utterly unmerited Grace of God.  "The best efforts" of human beings - either the alcoholic or those who'd tried to help her - had no effect on the problem; it's not until people let go - till we surrender all control - that we are able to recover.   It is a left-handed process entirely:  great power unleashed in the midst of - and, in fact, by means of - pain and weakness.

One of the most wonderful things about the blogs, for me, is that these kinds of casual virtual discussions can all of a sudden illuminate a fact or an idea you simply hadn't seen clearly before.  And that's what just happened for me in the discussion at Lee's:  I realized that one of A.A.'s singular features - one of the things that make it different from religion as it's usually practiced - is that it's an open-ended process.  There is no ultimate "goal"; there's no particular endline that, once having crossed it, you can say that you've definitively "arrived."   There aren't any particular "metrics" - which means that there is lots of opportunity for adventure and the chance to continually learn.  There is the priceless opportunity to live one's own life, as it plays out in all its reality, under the Grace of God.

I wrote at Lee's that:

....the theory is – and it does work, I can say, from personal experience! – that once made free through Grace, we become very willing to share this Good News, because …. well, because it's good.

That is the experience of many people – surely those in A.A., but also Christians. Free Grace – the gift of God – is something that wants to share itself through those it's touched. Not for any reason that presents itself as morality, but just because it feels like Salvation, and because you want others to experience it. This is A.A.'s Twelfth Step, exactly: "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles [i.e., the Twelve Steps themselves] in all our affairs." (Note the last clause!)

One of the best things about this is that no particular formula is given; it's rather understood that the "spiritual awakening" will be different for different people, according to their needs and gifts. There is no "blueprint," except for what actually happens in a person's life, and how A.A.'s principles apply to it.

In A.A., of course, the course is made easier: the Twelve Steps are life itself. Without them, the personality will once more decay and shrivel, the alcoholic will likely resume drinking, and all will be lost. So A.A. meetings – which are really just a place to talk about life and death and suffering and spiritual awakenings, and to regain perspective – are necessary. The Steps are necessary. Talking about these things is necessary. Admitting our "character defects" is necessary.

A.A. says that: "Great suffering and great love are A.A.'s disciplinarians; we need no others." And this is surely true for others, too.

I think one of the most important things about all that is contained in this idea:  "There is no 'blueprint,' except for what actually happens in a person's life, and how A.A.'s principles apply to it."  And, believe it or not, I think the key phrase there is "what actually happens"!

A.A. concerns itself primarily with reality.  Reality - "what actually happens" - is the key to everything.  What's true about the human condition as alcoholics live it out.   What's true about my own character defects; what's true about the harm I've caused others.   As I said over there, A.A.'s whole project is about "ego deflation at depth":  the First Step is an (often very hard-won) admission of the reality of one's own personal situation.   But this doesn't ordinarily (if ever) come in the form of a result of personal effort; it arrives instead as a flash of insight - as a "moment of clarity," as I've heard often in the rooms.

And that moment is the embodiment in the world of pure Grace; without it, there's no way forward at all.

More later, surely, as I think these things through further.  

Salvation and A.A.

I'm really enjoying talking with Lee and Christopher these days about (big theology word coming!) soteriology and things like that.

Lee's latest post is called Participatory Soteriology and the Shape of Christian Life Together.  (The discussion came out of Lee's post about the latest Episcopal adventure, the vote to "rehabilitate" Pelagius in the Diocese of Atlanta.  Listen:  maybe Pelagius really didn't say things attributed to him by Augustine; I have no issue with "correcting the mistakes of written history" - but is this actually the most important possible project for Episcopalians at the present moment?  I can't imagine that it could be.)

Anyway, I'm worrying the subject of "Grace" these days, and what role it plays - or ought to play - in Christian faith, and in particular how we can fix what I see as our huge problem with "content" and the teaching (or, rather, not) of same in the Episcopal Church.. 

I'm coming to think that Grace is, more than likely, the most important idea in Christianity - and of course, as I always do, I'm tending to view these things through A.A. eyes. And that is perfectly OK, since A.A. descends directly from the 1920s-era Oxford Group, whose founder was a Swiss Lutheran pastor.  Sam Shoemaker, one of the group's leaders in the United States and a very early A.A. supporter (not an alcoholic himself), was the (Episcopal) rector of the parish now known as Calvary-St. George's in Manhattan.

A.A. is the example par excellence of Grace, in fact:  those who recover in the program recognize, sometimes early on and sometimes much, much later, that recovery is solely on account of the utterly unmerited Grace of God.  "The best efforts" of human beings - either the alcoholic or those who'd tried to help her - had no effect on the problem; it's not until people let go - till we surrender all control - that we are able to recover.   It is a left-handed process entirely:  great power unleashed in the midst of - and, in fact, by means of - pain and weakness.

One of the most wonderful things about the blogs, for me, is that these kinds of casual virtual discussions can all of a sudden illuminate a fact or an idea you simply hadn't seen clearly before.  And that's what just happened for me in the discussion at Lee's:  I realized that one of A.A.'s singular features - one of the things that make it different from religion as it's usually practiced - is that it's an open-ended process.  There is no ultimate "goal"; there's no particular endline that, once having crossed it, you can say that you've definitively "arrived."   There aren't any particular "metrics" - which means that there is lots of opportunity for adventure and the chance to continually learn.  There is the priceless opportunity to live one's own life, as it plays out in all its reality, under the Grace of God.

I wrote at Lee's that:

....the theory is – and it does work, I can say, from personal experience! – that once made free through Grace, we become very willing to share this Good News, because …. well, because it's good.

That is the experience of many people – surely those in A.A., but also Christians. Free Grace – the gift of God – is something that wants to share itself through those it's touched. Not for any reason that presents itself as morality, but just because it feels like Salvation, and because you want others to experience it. This is A.A.'s Twelfth Step, exactly: "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles [i.e., the Twelve Steps themselves] in all our affairs." (Note the last clause!)

One of the best things about this is that no particular formula is given; it's rather understood that the "spiritual awakening" will be different for different people, according to their needs and gifts. There is no "blueprint," except for what actually happens in a person's life, and how A.A.'s principles apply to it.

In A.A., of course, the course is made easier: the Twelve Steps are life itself. Without them, the personality will once more decay and shrivel, the alcoholic will likely resume drinking, and all will be lost. So A.A. meetings – which are really just a place to talk about life and death and suffering and spiritual awakenings, and to regain perspective – are necessary. The Steps are necessary. Talking about these things is necessary. Admitting our "character defects" is necessary.

A.A. says that: "Great suffering and great love are A.A.'s disciplinarians; we need no others." And this is surely true for others, too.

I think one of the most important things about all that is contained in this idea:  "There is no 'blueprint,' except for what actually happens in a person's life, and how A.A.'s principles apply to it."  And, believe it or not, I think the key phrase there is "what actually happens"!

A.A. concerns itself primarily with reality.  Reality - "what actually happens" - is the key to everything.  What's true about the human condition as alcoholics live it out.   What's true about my own character defects; what's true about the harm I've caused others.   As I said over there, A.A.'s whole project is about "ego deflation at depth":  the First Step is an (often very hard-won) admission of the reality of one's own personal situation.   But this doesn't ordinarily (if ever) come in the form of a result of personal effort; it arrives instead as a flash of insight - as a "moment of clarity," as I've heard often in the rooms. 

And that moment is the embodiment in the world of pure Grace; without it, there's no way forward at all.   

More later, surely, as I think these things through further.

Step 4: Light

"4.  Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves."

It just struck me that this Step - well, approximately - is (was?) performed regularly - weekly, if not more often - until quite recently, in the Catholic and Orthodox varieties of the Christian faith.  It's quite obviously what Confession is, in its essence - or perhaps better said, what preparation for Confession is.  Which is what I need to go have a look at right now.  Will be back....

OK, here I am again. As I suspected, the Catechism covers "preparation for Confession." (Not the Episcopal Catechism, of course! The Baltimore Catechism of the Catholic Church from 1941, I believe.) Here's what it says there:

Q. 741. What must we do to receive the Sacrament of Penance worthily?
A. To receive the Sacrament of Penance worthily we must do five things:

1. We must examine our conscience.
2. We must have sorrow for our sins.
3. We must make a firm resolution never more to offend God.
4. We must confess our sins to the priest.
5. We must accept the penance which the priest gives us.

Q. 742. What should we pray for in preparing for confession?
A. In preparing for confession we should pray to the Holy Ghost to give us light to know our sins and to understand their guilt; for grace to detest them; for courage to confess them and for strength to keep our resolutions.

Q. 743. What faults do many commit in preparing for confession?
A. In preparing for confession many commit the faults:

1. Of giving too much time to the examination of conscience and little or none in exciting themselves to true sorrow for the sins discovered;
2. Of trying to recall every trifling circumstance, instead of thinking of the means by which they will avoid their sins for the future.

Q. 744. What, then, is the most important part of the preparation for confession?
A. The most important part of the preparation for confession is sincere sorrow for the sins committed and the firm determination to avoid them for the future.

And just for the record, here's a page titled "Self-Examination Before Confession
The Whole Armour of Truth" from "OrthodoxInfo.com," which offers these and other points to ponder:

Sins Against God

Do you pray to God in the morning and evening, before and after meals?
During prayer have you allowed your thoughts to wander?
Have you rushed or gabbled your prayers? or when reading in church?
Do you read the Scriptures daily? Do you read other spiritual writings regularly?
Have you read books whose content is not Orthodox or even anti-Orthodox, or is spiritually damaging?
....

Sins Against Your Neighbours

Do you respect and obey your parents?
Have you offended them by rudeness or contradiction?
(These two apply also to priests, superiors, teachers and elders.)
Have you insulted anyone?
Have you quarreled or fought with anyone? Have you hit anyone?
Are you always respectful to old people?
Are you ever angry, bad tempered or irritable?
Have you called anyone names? Do you use foul language?
Have you derided any that are disabled, poor, old or in some way disadvantaged?
Have you entertained bad feelings, ill will or hatred against anyone?
Have you forgiven those who have offended you?
Have you asked forgiveness from those whom you have offended?
....

Sins Against Yourself

Have you been proud? Do you boast of your abilities, achievements, family, connections or riches?
Do you consider yourself worthy before God?
Are you vain, ambitious? Do you try to win praise and glory?
Do you bear it easily when you are blamed, scolded or treated unjustly? Do you think too much about your looks, outward appearance and the impression you make?
....

Anyone preparing for confession must ask God to help his resolve to tell all his sins. A penitent should prepare for confession and collect his thoughts regarding his sins at least a day before confession. The most valuable thing in the eyes of God is the confession of the sin which weighs most on the conscience.

The questions listed are intended to help the Orthodox Christian examine himself and identify the symptoms of his spiritual ills; they should not be taken as some kind of test to ascertain how well we are doing as if there was a certain "pass-mark." Before God's perfections, we shall always fail. It is for that reason that, as believing Christians, we throw ourselves on the mercy of the Lord and do not trust in our own righteousness.

Remember that our sins can never outweigh God's love towards us. Even if we should seem to have failed with regard to all the points mentioned above and more, we should not lose heart but confess our sins unshamefacedly, we should regret the wrongs we have done, be resolved to make amends, and receive whatever remedy our confessor should be guided to lay upon us. Most of all, one should be assured of the blessing of God which these endeavours will bring upon you.

Most Protestants - outside Anglicanism and Lutheranism perhaps? - do not seem to have a systematic theology of Confession, and therefore wouldn't have one for "preparation for Confession." I could be entirely wrong about this, and am willing to be corrected, if anybody can do so.

Well, this is just an intro to Step 4. I used the word "light" because it comes directly out of the long version of the Step: "Once we have a complete willingness to take inventory, and exert ourselves to do the job thoroughly, a wonderful light falls upon this foggy scene. As we persist, a brand-new kind of confidence is born, and the sense of relief at finally facing ourselves is indescribable. These are the first fruits of Step Four."

The Step views the "character defects" that alcoholics must address in themselves as "instincts gone astray." Somebody once said he found this "interesting" - meaning, I guess, that it's not the usual thing. I don't, to be honest, know what terms the psychiatric literature uses, if there is any dominant point of view (which probably there is not) - and I've never objected to A.A.'s understanding, so I'll discuss this Step from this point of view. (We do get into a discussion of the Seven Deadly Sins, in fact! The Step notes - sardonically, I assume! - that "Some will become quite annoyed if there is talk about immorality, let alone sin. But all who are in the least reasonable will agree upon one point: that there is plenty wrong with us alcoholics about which plenty will have to be done if we are to expect sobriety, progress, and any real ability to cope with life."

Well, yes - we have to change. More later.

Step 3: The abandonment of will (Last post on this, I promise!)

It seems as if I really can't shut up when it comes to Step 3! Here it is again:

"3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him."

I searched on my own keywords above - "abandonment of will" - and found some pretty interesting and varied references: to the mystic Marguerite Porete; to the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer; to Epictetus; to "critical literary thinking"; to St. Clare; to the movie "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon."

Here's the reference to Porete, from a 1994 book titled Mystical Languages of Unsaying by Michael Anthony Sells:

The first relation between the performance of apophasis and its context centers upon will. Porete's Dame Amour speaks of the soul-annihilated-in-love as giving up her will entirely. She no longer wills to do or refrain from doing anything for God. The context of that statement is the transition from the fourth stage, the stage of works, to the fifth and sixth stages of mystical union. The seven-stage pattern of ascent is kataphatic and directional. Each stage leads to a higher stage, and no stage can be skipped. The abandonment of will takes place in the context of the striving to do good works and to follow the divine will. It is from within that striving that the soul realizes the apophatic aporia of desire, that even the desire to do good works or follow the divine will contains an egoism that must be given up in order to arrive at the fifth station of annihilation. At the moment of abandonment of the self, of will, and of works, Dame Amour tells us, the deity (as trinity, Dame Amour, or FarNear) will work within the soul.

I've posted before about Porete on this blog; she was a Flemish mystic - perhaps a "Beguine," a lay sister - born in the 13th Century, and burned at the stake for heresy by the Church in 1310.

"The soul-annihilated-in-love"! Well, maybe it's a good thing that this Step is only about "making a decision," then; my soul at that point was in a state of annihilation, all right - but definitely not from love! Interesting, actually, that the "abandonment of will" for A.A.s comes very soon in the Step program - and quite far along in the "seven stages of mystical union" (where one would actually predict it might come, in fact). I'm sure that's because A.A. can't afford to be just messing around; it's an emergency situation, and "abandonment of will" is not something that can be allowed to just "happen" someplace down the road - a start has to be made right away.

IOW, we have to come to a decision about this fairly soon in sobriety, and begin the process of "turning our will and life" over to God.

Here's the introduction to the "long version" of this Step, from the little book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions":

Practicing Step Three is like the opening of a door which to all appearances is still closed and locked. All we need is a key, and the decision to swing the door open. There is only one key, and it is called willingness. Once unlocked by willingness, the door opens almost of itself, and looking through it, we shall see a pathway beside which is an inscription. It reads: "This is the way to a faith that works." In the first two Steps we were engaged in reflection. We saw that we were powerless over alcohol, but we also perceived that faith of some kind, if only in A.A. itself, is possible to anyone. These conclusions did not require action; they required only acceptance. Like all the remaining Steps, Step Three calls for affirmative action, for it is only by action that we can cut away the self-will which has always blocked the entry of God--or, if you like, a Higher Power--into our lives. Faith, to be sure, is necessary, but faith alone can avail nothing. We can have faith, yet keep God out of our lives. Therefore our problem now becomes just how and by what specific means shall we be able to let Him in? Step Three represents our first attempt to do this. In fact, the effectiveness of the whole A.A. program will rest upon how well and earnestly we have tried to come to "a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." To every worldly and practical-minded beginner, this Step looks hard, even impossible. No matter how much one wishes to try, exactly how can he turn his own will and his own life over to the care of whatever God he thinks there is? Fortunately, we who have tried it, and with equal misgivings, can testify that anyone, anyone at all, can begin to do it. We can further add that a beginning, even the smallest, is all that is needed. Once we have placed the key of willingness in the lock and have the door ever so slightly open, we find that we can always open it some more. Though self-will may slam it shut again, as it frequently does, it will always respond the moment we again pick up the key of willingness.

Clearly, clearly: "Like all the remaining Steps, Step Three calls for affirmative action, for it is only by action that we can cut away the self-will which has always blocked the entry of God--or, if you like, a Higher Power--into our lives. Faith, to be sure, is necessary, but faith alone can avail nothing."

Self-will is the problem, and willingness is the solution. Developing willingness, that is; action. The next part of the Step (you can read the whole thing here) is this:

Maybe this all sounds mysterious and remote, something like Einstein's theory of relativity or a proposition in nuclear physics. It isn't at all. Let's look at how practical it actually is. Every man and woman who has joined A.A. and intends to stick has, without realizing it, made a beginning on Step Three. Isn't it true that in all matters touching upon alcohol, each of them has decided to turn his or her life over to the care, protection, and guidance of Alcoholics Anonymous? Already a willingness has been achieved to cast out one's own will and one's own ideas about the alcohol problem in favor of those suggested by A.A. Any willing newcomer feels sure A.A. is the only safe harbor for the foundering vessel he has become. Now if this is not turning one's will and life over to a newfound Providence, then what is it? But suppose that instinct still cries out, as it certainly will, "Yes, respecting alcohol, I guess I have to be dependent upon A.A., but in all other matters I must still maintain my independence. Nothing is going to turn me into a nonentity. If I keep on turning my life and my will over to the care of Something or Somebody else, what will become of me? I'll look like the hole in the doughnut." This, of course, is the process by which instinct and logic always seek to bolster egotism, and so frustrate spiritual development. The trouble is that this kind of thinking takes no real account of the facts. And the facts seem to be these: The more we become willing to depend upon a Higher Power, the more independent we actually are. Therefore dependence, as A.A. practices it, is really a means of gaining true independence of the spirit.

So: can the church learn something from all this? It seems to me that accommodation has been made here especially for alcoholics; abandonment of will needs to come quite early in the process, because otherwise the alcoholic will die. It's an extreme measure for people who are sick; for mystics, it's a "stage" on the way to "union."

Which says something, doesn't it?  First, that "abandonment of will" is possible earlier than mystics may suppose; second, that A.A. makes this a matter of conscious effort - something on which the alcoholic must "take action."

I don't think the Church says much about this at all, in fact - let alone making it a key part of the life of faith.  We are told, instead either that the Christian life is about "good works" or that it's about being "justified by grace through faith."  Neither of which really addresses the issue that Step 3 attempts to address, which is (in A.A's memorable phrase) the problem of "self-will run riot."  And both of which actually may encourage the Christian in her "I'm the center of the universe" thinking - exactly the problem in the first place!

Suppose the church did start to discuss "abandonment of will," though?  It's a thought, isn't it?

Step 2: Hope

"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."

I was struggling trying to come up with a title for this post. What, exactly, is at issue here? Is this about "faith"? No, I don't think so. It's more like an a acknowledgment of one's lack of faith - a bit like the famous passage from Mark 9 below, in fact - but it's mainly about the process of acquiring it. "Came to believe": this describes a journey of the soul to an hitherto unknown (or perhaps, once known but long ago forgotten?) internal landscape. An acceptance, too, and an acknowledgment of one's current insanity.

I'm not sure what word encompasses all that; for now, I'm using "Hope," but that may not last the night.

Here's the relevant section of Mark 9 referred to above:

“Teacher, I brought you my son; he has a spirit that makes him unable to speak; and whenever it seizes him, it dashes him down; and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid; and I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they could not do so.” He answered them, “You faithless generation, how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him to me.” And they brought the boy to him. When the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. It has often cast him into the fire and into the water, to destroy him; but if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” Jesus said to him, “If you are able! —All things can be done for the one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief."

This is of course a casting-out-of-demons story, and it finishes this way:

When Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You spirit that keeps this boy from speaking and hearing, I command you, come out of him, and never enter him again!” After crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he was able to stand. When he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” He said to them, “This kind can come out only through prayer.” They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

"This kind can come out only through prayer"! Well, for many addicts, this describes our experience fully and perfectly. (Though not for all! There have always been agnostics and atheists in A.A. - these people tend to make A.A. itself the "Higher Power" of Step 3, and ignore the word "God" elsewhere - although there are perhaps fewer today than there once were, because there are other recovery options today.)

Addiction does seem to me to be a form of demonic possession, although it's pretty obviously not what's at issue in the above passage. Certainly it's a betrayal of the soul by the mind and body in a similar way - though of course there's a volitional aspect that's not present in other forms of mental illness.

But this has all been said before; what I'm looking for here is something I haven't seen already - some new insight. Anyway, what I'm really searching for is something that's convincing to all people, not just addicts or the mentally or emotionally ill.

Is there something like that here? Well, one thing I think we don't acknowledge very often in Christianity, and to our detriment, is the process - the "coming to believe" - that is the heart of the religious life. I think that is the important aspect of this Step - something that can speak to everybody. “I believe; help my unbelief."

In this Step, it's faith - a hope for faith, really, seen now only through a glass dimly - in a power outside oneself, and in "restoration" by means of that power. Remember, too, an important aspect of the Steps that doesn't actually appear in this list form, although it does in the book where they are introduced: these are "reports of actions taken." "Here are the Steps we took," the book says, "which are suggested as a program of recovery." The Steps are a summary of other people's experiences, in other words - people for whom this faith did indeed become a reality. They are a summary of experience, offered to those who haven't had this particular experience - yet. They are collective wisdom gained through pain, nothing more or less - and this is the journey itself.

One reason the Gospel story speaks so strongly to us, I think, is because it's about a human life and experience. God became a human being, to live here among us and experience life as we do - in all its joy and terror. While Jesus is admittedly a person unlike any other, still the life is recognizable. The birth of a child; the growth of a boy; the journey of a man. The Crucifixion speaks to the suffering human being of his own experience - which is now God's own experience. And "restoration" is the theme in Christianity as well; Christ comes into the fallen world to restore us.

And surely, non-alcoholics can understand the longing for "restoration" also. Life is full of loss, and there is destruction of all kinds everywhere.

Today I was in a Bible study on the topic of 1 Corinthians 13, and "through a glass dimly" was part of the discussion. Something I'd never paid much attention to before, though, was this part:

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.

"Even as I have been fully known" is actually a pretty important part of the "restoration" to sanity. This refers to "known by God," of course. But also, this is what a later Step - Step 5 - is all about: "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs." In Step 5, you'll find these passages:

When we reached A.A., and for the first time in our lives stood among people who seemed to understand, the sense of belonging was tremendously exciting. We thought the isolation problem had been solved. But we soon discovered that while we weren't alone any more in a social sense, we still suffered many of the old pangs of anxious apartness. Until we had talked with complete candor of our conflicts, and had listened to someone else do the same thing, we still didn't belong. Step Five was the answer. It was the beginning of true kinship with man and God.

This vital Step was also the means by which we began to get the feeling that we could be forgiven, no matter what we had thought or done. Often it was while working on this Step with our sponsors or spiritual advisers that we first felt truly able to forgive others, no matter how deeply we felt they had wronged us. Our moral inventory had persuaded us that all-round forgiveness was desirable, but it was only when we resolutely tackled Step Five that we inwardly knew we'd be able to receive forgiveness and give it, too.

....

The real tests of the situation are your own willingness to confide and your full confidence in the one with whom you share your first accurate self-survey. Even when you've found the person, it frequently takes great resolution to approach him or her. No one ought to say the A.A. program requires no willpower; here is one place you may require all you've got. Happily, though, the chances are that you will be in for a very pleasant surprise. When your mission is carefully explained, and it is seen by the recipient of your confidence how helpful he can really be, the conversation will start easily and will soon become eager. Before long, your listener may well tell a story or two about himself which will place you even more at ease. Provided you hold back nothing, your sense of relief will mount from minute to minute. The dammed-up emotions of years break out of their confinement, and miraculously vanish as soon as they are exposed. As the pain subsides, a healing tranquillity takes its place. And when humility and serenity are so combined, something else of great moment is apt to occur. Many an A.A., once agnostic or atheistic, tells us that it was during this stage of Step Five that he first actually felt the presence of God. And even those who had faith already often become conscious of God as they never were before.

This feeling of being at one with God and man, this emerging from isolation through the open and honest sharing of our terrible burden of guilt, brings us to a resting place where we may prepare ourselves for the following Steps toward a full and meaningful sobriety.

The author of an A.A. pamphlet called "A Member's-Eye View of A.A." writes this:

"I am convinced that the basic search of every human being, from the cradle to the grave, is to find at least one other human being before whom he can stand completely naked, stripped of all pretense or defense, and trust that person not to hurt him, because that other person has stripped himself naked, too."

And perhaps this is what Step 2 is really about: the dimly-sensed awareness that this "basic search" is about to end; that the journey is really one of stripping-away of pretense and - above all - of defenses. We believe that we might someday have real friendship - which comes by acknowledging our weaknesses and vulnerabilities and failures - at last.

So: can the church learn that the life of faith is a journey, and that at all times we see ourselves and everything else "in a mirror dimly"? Can it teach that we become weak - we acknowledge our failures and vulnerabilities once and forever, as in the above example - to become strong? In A.A., when new people come through the doors, they are filled with shame and despair. But then they walk into a room filled with people who openly acknowledge the things the newcomers have been so desperately ashamed of for so long - and laugh uproariously about them! And then these A.A. members talk about their own journeys in addiction and in sobriety.

Would it be so hard to change our churches to be more like this? To talk more about our own failures to others, and to end up laughing about our common weaknesses together? To acknowledge that we "see through a glass dimly" even now, but enjoy the journey anyway?

Step 2: Hope

"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."

I was struggling trying to come up with a title for this post. What, exactly, is at issue here? Is this about "faith"? No, I don't think so. It's more like an a acknowledgment of one's lack of faith - a bit like the famous passage from Mark 9 below, in fact - but it's mainly about the process of acquiring it. "Came to believe": this describes a journey of the soul to an hitherto unknown (or perhaps, once known but long ago forgotten?) internal landscape. An acceptance, too, and an acknowledgment of one's current insanity.

I'm not sure what word encompasses all that; for now, I'm using "Hope," but that may not last the night.

Here's the relevant section of Mark 9 referred to above:

“Teacher, I brought you my son; he has a spirit that makes him unable to speak; and whenever it seizes him, it dashes him down; and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid; and I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they could not do so.” He answered them, “You faithless generation, how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him to me.” And they brought the boy to him. When the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. It has often cast him into the fire and into the water, to destroy him; but if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” Jesus said to him, “If you are able! —All things can be done for the one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief."

This is of course a casting-out-of-demons story, and it finishes this way:

When Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You spirit that keeps this boy from speaking and hearing, I command you, come out of him, and never enter him again!” After crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he was able to stand. When he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” He said to them, “This kind can come out only through prayer.” They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

"This kind can come out only through prayer"! Well, for many addicts, this describes our experience fully and perfectly. (Though not for all! There have always been agnostics and atheists in A.A. - these people tend to make A.A. itself the "Higher Power" of Step 3, and ignore the word "God" elsewhere - although there are perhaps fewer today than there once were, because there are other recovery options today.)

Addiction does seem to me to be a form of demonic possession, although it's pretty obviously not what's at issue in the above passage. Certainly it's a betrayal of the soul by the mind and body in a similar way - though of course there's a volitional aspect that's not present in other forms of mental illness.

But this has all been said before; what I'm looking for here is something I haven't seen already - some new insight. Anyway, what I'm really searching for is something that's convincing to all people, not just addicts or the mentally or emotionally ill.

Is there something like that here? Well, one thing I think we don't acknowledge very often in Christianity, and to our detriment, is the process - the "coming to believe" - that is the heart of the religious life. I think that is the important aspect of this Step - something that can speak to everybody. “I believe; help my unbelief."

In this Step, it's faith - a hope for faith, really, seen now only through a glass dimly - in a power outside oneself, and in "restoration" by means of that power. Remember, too, an important aspect of the Steps that doesn't actually appear in this list form, although it does in the book where they are introduced: these are "reports of actions taken." "Here are the Steps we took," the book says, "which are suggested as a program of recovery." The Steps are a summary of other people's experiences, in other words - people for whom this faith did indeed become a reality. They are a summary of experience, offered to those who haven't had this particular experience - yet. They are collective wisdom gained through pain, nothing more or less - and this is the journey itself.

One reason the Gospel story speaks so strongly to us, I think, is because it's about a human life and experience. God became a human being, to live here among us and experience life as we do - in all its joy and terror. While Jesus is admittedly a person unlike any other, still the life is recognizable. The birth of a child; the growth of a boy; the journey of a man. The Crucifixion speaks to the suffering human being of his own experience - which is now God's own experience. And "restoration" is the theme in Christianity as well; Christ comes into the fallen world to restore us.

And surely, non-alcoholics can understand the longing for "restoration" also. Life is full of loss, and there is destruction of all kinds everywhere.

Today I was in a Bible study on the topic of 1 Corinthians 13, and "through a glass dimly" was part of the discussion. Something I'd never paid much attention to before, though, was this part:

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.

"Even as I have been fully known" is actually a pretty important part of the "restoration" to sanity. This refers to "known by God," of course. But also, this is what a later Step - Step 5 - is all about: "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs." In Step 5, you'll find these passages:

When we reached A.A., and for the first time in our lives stood among people who seemed to understand, the sense of belonging was tremendously exciting. We thought the isolation problem had been solved. But we soon discovered that while we weren't alone any more in a social sense, we still suffered many of the old pangs of anxious apartness. Until we had talked with complete candor of our conflicts, and had listened to someone else do the same thing, we still didn't belong. Step Five was the answer. It was the beginning of true kinship with man and God.

This vital Step was also the means by which we began to get the feeling that we could be forgiven, no matter what we had thought or done. Often it was while working on this Step with our sponsors or spiritual advisers that we first felt truly able to forgive others, no matter how deeply we felt they had wronged us. Our moral inventory had persuaded us that all-round forgiveness was desirable, but it was only when we resolutely tackled Step Five that we inwardly knew we'd be able to receive forgiveness and give it, too.

....

The real tests of the situation are your own willingness to confide and your full confidence in the one with whom you share your first accurate self-survey. Even when you've found the person, it frequently takes great resolution to approach him or her. No one ought to say the A.A. program requires no willpower; here is one place you may require all you've got. Happily, though, the chances are that you will be in for a very pleasant surprise. When your mission is carefully explained, and it is seen by the recipient of your confidence how helpful he can really be, the conversation will start easily and will soon become eager. Before long, your listener may well tell a story or two about himself which will place you even more at ease. Provided you hold back nothing, your sense of relief will mount from minute to minute. The dammed-up emotions of years break out of their confinement, and miraculously vanish as soon as they are exposed. As the pain subsides, a healing tranquillity takes its place. And when humility and serenity are so combined, something else of great moment is apt to occur. Many an A.A., once agnostic or atheistic, tells us that it was during this stage of Step Five that he first actually felt the presence of God. And even those who had faith already often become conscious of God as they never were before.

This feeling of being at one with God and man, this emerging from isolation through the open and honest sharing of our terrible burden of guilt, brings us to a resting place where we may prepare ourselves for the following Steps toward a full and meaningful sobriety.

The author of an A.A. pamphlet called "A Member's-Eye View of A.A." writes this:

"I am convinced that the basic search of every human being, from the cradle to the grave, is to find at least one other human being before whom he can stand completely naked, stripped of all pretense or defense, and trust that person not to hurt him, because that other person has stripped himself naked, too."

And perhaps this is what Step 2 is really about: the dimly-sensed awareness that this "basic search" is about to end; that the journey is really one of stripping-away of pretense and - above all - of defenses. We believe that we might someday have real friendship - which comes by acknowledging our weaknesses and vulnerabilities and failures - at last.

So: can the church learn that the life of faith is a journey, and that at all times we see ourselves and everything else "in a mirror dimly"? Can it teach that we become weak - we acknowledge our failures and vulnerabilities once and forever, as in the above example - to become strong? In A.A., when new people come through the doors, they are filled with shame and despair. But then they walk into a room filled with people who openly acknowledge the things the newcomers have been so desperately ashamed of for so long - and laugh uproariously about them! And then these A.A. members talk about their own journeys in addiction and in sobriety.

Would it be so hard to change our churches to be more like this? To talk more about our own failures to others, and to end up laughing about our common weaknesses together? To acknowledge that we "see through a glass dimly" even now, but enjoy the journey anyway?

The First Step: Surrender (continued)

After re-reading the previous post on this topic, I've begun to think the key might be in this paragraph:

"As soon as I regained my ability to think, I went carefully over that evening in Washington. Not only had I been off guard, I had made no fight whatever against the first drink. This time I had not thought of the consequences at all. I had commenced to drink as carelessly as thought the cocktails were ginger ale. I now remembered what my alcoholic friends had told me, how they prophesied that if I had an alcoholic mind, the time and place would come I would drink again. They had said that though I did raise a defense, it would one day give way before some trivial reason for having a drink. Well, just that did happen and more, for what I had learned of alcoholism did not occur to me at all. I knew from that moment that I had an alcoholic mind. I saw that will power and self- knowledge would not help in those strange mental blank spots. I had never been able to understand people who said that a problem had them hopelessly defeated. I knew then. It was the crushing blow.

I bolded what seem to me to be the important sentences in the paragraph above. And these sentences reminded me just now of something else that Rowan Williams has written - here, in his 1998 response to John Spong's "12 Theses." He's referring here to Spong's Thesis #6: "The view of the cross as the sacrifice for the sins of the world is a barbarian idea based on primitive concepts of God and must be dismissed." Williams writes:

The cross as sacrifice? God knows, there are barbaric ways of putting this; but as a complex and apparently inescapable metaphor (which, in the Bible, is about far more than propitiation) it has always said something sobering about the fact that human liberation doesn’t come cheap, that the degree of human self-delusion is so colossal as to involve ’some total gain or loss’ (in the words of Auden’s poem about Bonhoeffer) in the task of overcoming it. And that human beings compulsively deceive themselves about who and what they are is a belief to which Darwinism is completely immaterial.

Again I'm bolding the key section.

And surely Rowan Williams means to say that the "colossal degree of human self-delusion" is across-the-board and universal - and so the First Step really can and does apply to non-alcoholics? That "strange mental blank spots" exist in every human mind? It must be true; it seems completely clear to me that this is a fact. This is why people get (and need) therapy, after all: they cannot see themselves and their motivations clearly. It must be literally impossible to do so, given the "blank spots" we all have when it comes to our earliest years - years which are formative and during which we build up formidable defenses and psychic armor in our attempts to deal with the world we inherit. We also have "blank spots" simply because we grew up in this kind of family, and not that kind, and so think this sort of thing is "normal" and that sort isn't. Right?

Does anybody know any theologians who've written things along these lines? I'm interested in where Rowan Williams gets his notion of the "colossal degree of human self-delusion." Is it from simple observation? Could be, surely! Or is there a Christian theologian/psychologist out there someplace who's actually researched this sort of thing?

I'd be grateful for any leads in this area - but I think I'm satisfied that at least part of Step 1 does indeed contain a "universal principle" and can translate outside of A.A. (No doubt I'll have second thoughts about this shortly, but it's good to come to a conclusion now and then! And then I can get on to Step 2....)

The First Step: Surrender

"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable."

So: what's happening here, anyway? It seems simple enough, doesn't it? The process involves an admission - and that word implies that there is some reluctance involved, I think, or some difficulty in arriving at this statement - of one's inability to control one's drinking, and a recognition of the reality of the utter mess one's life has become. And at this point I think I need to discuss something that underlies the way this Step is constructed: the concept of "denial" (something that's discussed in A.A. meetings all the time, but is not defined very well and is sometimes - in my own opinion - merely a sort of folk-wisdom bit of rationalization that's designed to cover a multitude of sins).

"Denial" is used in several different ways. In one case, it refers to the inability of the active alcoholic to see himself clearly; it seems to mean that the alcoholic doesn't recognize himself as an alcoholic, and refuses to acknowledge the damage that drinking is causing in his life. In another case, it refers to a particular "mental block" around alcohol and drinking - a sort of "blackout of reason" when the alcoholic considers having a drink even when she acknowledges her own alcoholism. This second usage is best illustrated by two examples from the book "Alcoholics Anonymous." First, this:

What sort of thinking dominates an alcoholic who repeats time after time the desperate experiment of the first drink? Friends who have reasoned with him after a spree which has brought him to the point of divorce or bankruptcy are mystified when he walks directly into a saloon. Why does he? Of what is he thinking?

Our first example is a friend we shall call Jim. This man has a charming wife and family. He inherited a lucrative automobile agency. He had a commendable World War record. He is a good salesman. Everybody likes him. He is an intelligent man, normal so far as we can see, except for a nervous disposition. He did no drinking until he was thirty-five. In a few years he became so violent when intoxicated that he had to be committed. On leaving the asylum he came into contact with us.

We told him what we knew of alcoholism and the answer we had found. He made a beginning. His family was re- assembled, and he began to work as a salesman for the business he had lost through drinking. All went well for a time, but he failed to enlarge his spiritual life. To his consternation, he found himself drunk half a dozen times in rapid succession. On each of these occasions we worked with him, reviewing carefully what had happened. He agreed he was a real alcoholic and in a serious condition. He knew he faced another trip to the asylum if he kept on. Moreover, he would lose his family for whom he had a deep affection. Yet he got drunk again. we asked him to tell us exactly how it happened. This is his story: "I came to work on Tuesday morning. I remember I felt irritated that I had to be a salesman for a concern I once owned. I had a few words with the brass, but nothing serious. Then I decided to drive to the country and see one of my prospects for a car. On the way I felt hungry so I stopped at a roadside place where they have a bar. I had no intention of drinking. I just thought I would get a sandwich. I also had the notion that I might find a customer for a car at this place, which was familiar for I had been going to it for years. I had eaten there many times during the months I was sober. I sat down at a table and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk. Still no thought of drinking. I ordered another sandwich and decided to have another glass of milk.

"Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that if I were to put an ounce of whiskey in my milk it couldn't hurt me on a full stomach. I ordered a whiskey and poured it into the milk. I vaguely sensed I was not being any too smart, but I was reassured as I was taking the whiskey on a full stomach. The experiment went so well that I ordered another whiskey and poured it into more milk. That didn't seem to bother me so I tried another."

Thus started one more journey to the asylum for Jim. Here was the threat of commitment, the loss of family and position, to say nothing of that intense mental and physical suffering which drinking always caused him. He had much knowledge about himself as an alcoholic. Yet all reasons for not drinking were easily pushed aside in favor of the foolish idea that he could take whiskey if only he mixed it with milk!

Whatever the precise definition of the word may be, we call this plain insanity. How can such a lack of proportion, of the ability to think straight, be called anything else?

Ah, yes - milk! That's the ticket! I've always loved that story, and that particular excuse. (Truth be told, I loved the Big Book immediately! It's so 1930s, and I adore the stories.)

From the same page, here's another example; the story is similar and begins as the above story does, with the explanation of "how it happened again":

"I was much impressed with what you fellows said about alcoholism, and I frankly did not believe it would be possible for me to drink again. I rather appreciated your ideas about the subtle insanity which precedes the first drink, but I was confident it could not happen to me after what I had learned. I reasoned I was not so far advanced as most of you fellows, that I had been usually successful in licking my other personal problems, and that I would therefore be successful where you men failed. I felt I had every right to be self- confident, that it would be only a matter of exercising my will power and keeping on guard.

"In this frame of mind, I went about my business and for a time all was well. I had no trouble refusing drinks, and began to wonder if I had not been making too hard work of a simple matter. One day I went to Washington to present some accounting evidence to a government bureau. I had been out of town before during this particular dry spell, so there was nothing new about that. Physically, I felt fine. Neither did I have any pressing problems or worries. My business came off well, I was pleased and knew my partners would be too. It was the end of a perfect day, not a cloud on the horizon.

"I went to my hotel and leisurely dressed for dinner. As I crossed the threshold of the dining room, the thought came to mind that it would be nice to have a couple of cocktails with dinner. That was all. Nothing more. I ordered a cocktail and my meal. Then I ordered another cocktail. After dinner I decided to take a walk. When I returned to the hotel it struck me a highball would be fine before going to bed, so I stepped into the bar and had one. I remember having several more that night and plenty next morning. I have a shadowy recollection of being in a airplane bound for New York, and of finding a friendly taxicab driver at the landing field instead of my wife. The driver escorted me for several days. I know little of where I went or what I said and did. Then came the hospital with the unbearable mental and physical suffering.

"As soon as I regained my ability to think, I went carefully over that evening in Washington. Not only had I been off guard, I had made no fight whatever against the first drink. This time I had not thought of the consequences at all. I had commenced to drink as carelessly as thought the cocktails were ginger ale. I now remembered what my alcoholic friends had told me, how they prophesied that if I had an alcoholic mind, the time and place would come I would drink again. They had said that though I did raise a defense, it would one day give way before some trivial reason for having a drink. Well, just that did happen and more, for what I had learned of alcoholism did not occur to me at all. I knew from that moment that I had an alcoholic mind. I saw that will power and self- knowledge would not help in those strange mental blank spots. I had never been able to understand people who said that a problem had them hopelessly defeated. I knew then. It was the crushing blow. "

At any rate, this is the condition addressed by the first clause of Step 1: an "admission of powerlessness over alcohol." And the "powerlessness" referred to here is much stronger than a simple recognition that one shouldn't drink anymore; it's got to be stronger than that in the case of a person afflicted with this "subtle insanity" around drinking.

I'm discussing "denial" because it seems to me that it's an important condition in the construction of this Step.  If "denial" didn't exist - if the alcoholic didn't have "strange mental blank spots," this Step would be written differently.  We're talking about "compulsion" here, I think, and the peculiar way it operates on one's conscious mind. 

Leaving aside - because we have to - the actual cause of the "strange mental blank spots" illustrated above, two things seem clear:

1. It's acknowledged by at least some people who have a strong interest in stopping their own destructive drinking that "will power and self-knowledge do not help," and that
2. Somehow, at least for some people, the A.A. program and its "spiritual angle" do help.

So:  how do these things stack up as general principles?  Are there non-drinkers out there suffering from compulsions of their own, for which they may need spiritual help?  Surely there must be; alcoholism is only one kind of self-destructive problem (although it's a very stark one).  Are there others faced with very difficult problems not of their own making for which spiritual help is also a comfort and a very present help in trouble?  Yes, no doubt.

What about the rest?  Is there a large group of people who see no need for spiritual comfort and aid?  It would seem so, given that (as I say often on this blog) the fastest-growing segment of the population is the "unchurched."   What about things like the high divorce rate?  It does seem that we hear every other day about some high- (or low-!) profile marriage breaking up, many times due to infidelity.

In re the last point:  one thing I've thought about when considering the era of the Big Book as compared with our own is that women have so much more power today.  It was hard for a woman to live on her own in 1939, but women do it all the time today - so would Lois Wilson have thrown Bill out and forced him to come to terms with his alcoholism sooner?   Would he even have started the crazy, heavy drinking in the first place, knowing that his position might become unstable pretty quickly?  Women don't put up with drunk husbands today as they mostly had to 70 years ago - nor do they put up with philanderers any longer. Are things getter better - or worse? Surely better, in some ways, for women, no?

In any case, there are certainly lots of men in A.A. meetings today - young men, too, and some must be married.  And people still drink and take drugs in reckless ways.  But there is always a cultural aspect to these questions that makes them more difficult problems than they would be otherwise.

So:  is "surrender" a key to finding help for one's problems?  In some way, it must be:  the First Step really is the first step.  You have to acknowledge that a problem exists first, and then recognize that you can't handle it alone, right?  Even if the help is not to come from God, it has to come from someplace outside oneself:  a counselor, a friend, a priest.  Right?

So is this a key step, then, that could apply to everybody when they need help?  And is it necessary for somebody to "hit bottom" before they become willing to ask for help - particularly spiritual help?  I've been using the word "repentance" lately, thinking it's an important step on the way to "Grace" - but here's Calvin, apparently, on the topic:

"Yet when we refer to the origin of repentance to faith, we do not imagine some space of time during which it brings it to birth; but we mean to show that a man cannot apply himself seriously to repentance without knowing himself to belong to God. But no one is truly persuaded that he belongs to God unless he has first recognized God's grace....No one will ever reverence God but him who trusts that God is propitious to him. No one will gird himself willingly to observe the law but him who will be persuaded that God is pleased by his obedience. This tenderness in overlooking and tolerating vices is a sign of God's fatherly favor" (Calvin, Institutes, 3.3.2).

This seems to say clearly that grace precedes repentance - and actually in the case of A.A. I think that might be entirely right. The First Step is not really about repentance at all - is it? It's about "asking for help" and "surrender" - isn't it? And surely this is where Grace happens in the life of any alcoholic recovering in A.A. So maybe I'm completely wrong; perhaps "Grace" is actually an important step on the way to "repentance"?

Or perhaps "repentance" is exactly the right word? And the thing a person is "turning from" is the notion that she can solve her own problems using her own unaided will? Which means that "self-will" (or "pride"?) is the sin referred to, and "asking for help" is in fact a form of repentance?

Where does "Grace" come into it, then? I'm asking because I'm completely clear about the fact of "Grace" in my A.A. life - but I don't really seem to feel the same thing when I think about religious faith.

So I'm not sure, exactly. What do you think?

More later, I think.