Interspiritual Mysticism - Richard Rohr - Center for Action and Contemplation - reflects on the work of Dom Bede Griffiths

Interspiritual Mysticism - Richard Rohr - Center for Action and Contemplation - reflects on the work of Dom Bede Griffiths

A meditation for the Feast of the Transfiguration - Tuesday, August 6, 2019 Anniversary of the Bombing of Hiroshima

Dom Bede Griffiths (1906–1993) was born in Britain and lived the latter decades of his life in India. Some of our Living School students have been deeply moved by studying his work which sought to make connections between Christianity and Hinduism. It has not diminished but rather expanded their faith. Robert Ellsberg describes Griffiths’ journey to God through both Western and Eastern spirituality:

In his old age [Griffiths] looked every bit the part of an Indian holy man—with long beard, flowing white hair, and saffron robe. But while he felt equally at home in the [Hindu] Vedas and Upanishads as in the Christian Scriptures, he remained thoroughly rooted in the church. He had come to the point where all religions, indeed all creation, spoke to him of Christ. . . . [A theme I explore in my book The Universal Christ.]

Continue Reading »

Maggie Fergusson writing in The Tablet comments on Richard Holloway’s loss of faith

Maggie Fergusson writing in The Tablet comments on Richard Holloway’s loss of faith

Missing God: the former bishop who lost his faith still hears the faint whisper of the transcendent

Missing God: the former bishop who lost his faith still hears the faint whisper of the transcendent

If you are married to a book dealer, you try to keep your shelves as clear as ­possible, holding on only to those ­volumes you feel you can hardly live without. One such, for me, has been Richard Holloway’s Leaving Alexandria, published in 2012, and tracing his development from a boy who hoped to devote his life to God, to his disenchantment with a Church whose rules seemed to him not just wrong-headed but cruel, and his consequent resignation as Bishop of Edinburgh and Primus of the Scottish Episcopal Church in 2000.

What Holloway conveys is not a progression from faith to triumphal, Dawkins-style ­atheism, but a painful sense of failure and regret: he no longer believes in God, yet he misses him, and has let him down. This is the most plangent and thought-provoking memoir I have ever read.

Holloway is now 85, tall, courteous and warm, his mind still sharp. He is working on a book called Stories We Tell Ourselves, “propelled by a kind of fatigue at the way religion and politics are constantly just shouting at each other, and a failure to admit that our ideas are intrinsically varied and ­unsettlable – so why can’t we live with that gorgeous variety? Unless our stories make us cruel and violent, why can’t we just tell them?” He’s due to deliver to his publisher, Canongate, next April, and in the meantime he’s happy to look back and chat about Leaving Alexandria.

I’ve never, I tell him, seen a book get more rapturous reviews. But, for Holloway, what were most poignant were the 500-odd letters he received from priests – some Catholics, some bishops – telling him that this was “their story. That’s the most moving thing about being a writer – getting letters from people who feel less lonely for having read you.” He has, he says, “a strong affection for broken priests”.

“An autobiography,” Holloway says, “can be quite self-serving. Whereas a memoir is a piece of self-discovery – a piece of personal archaeology, self-examination, confession if you like. It’s a kind of delving into one’s own story to try to make sense of it, because I think – and maybe this is more true of men than women – a lot of us don’t really know ourselves. And it would be a tragedy to die not knowing who you are.”

Continue Reading »