CC40: How My Experience With Chemistry Has Influenced My Mysticism

Theology at its best is a language -- a language that helps individuals understand their relationship with God while not contradicting or denying one of God's other important languages: science. 

It's important for God's children to have access to the language of uplifting theology. This is because not all of God's children can easily understand or relate to the language of science. This is okay with God. In fact, it's more than okay. God's children (one of whom would be you) are not all the same. God's children are all different from each other, although we share some important traits in common, such as the ability to love and forgive.  

Your soul wasn't created by God the Mother and God the Father from a batch of dirt and a cookie cutter (Genesis 2:7 notwithstanding). In all of Creation (and it's a pretty darned big Creation!), there's no other soul quite like you. There's no other soul who thinks exactly the way you think, no other soul who expresses love exactly the way you express love. You're one of a kind.  

This means you "get" some languages better than you get other languages.  

Maybe you totally get music, which means you feel the rhythms and harmonies deep in your bones without anyone ever really teaching you how to do it. You just "get" it so deeply that your whole life is transformed by it, each and every day.  

Maybe you totally get poetry. That's a language, too. It's not the same as prose. Somehow it triggers different feelings and different responses in you than prose. You read a few verses of exquisite poetry and BAM -- powerful insights descend upon your soul and you're forever changed.  

Now don't laugh, but I react to chemistry the way many people react to music and poetry. It's not that I don't like music or poetry, it's just that, well, I really, really "get" the language of chemistry. 

“Tremble, O Earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water” (Psalm 114: 7-8). Photo credit JAT 2017.

If you've studied a lot of chemistry,* you know that chemists don't think in quite the same way as physicists, or biologists, or computer scientists, or mathematicians. Physicists get excited about field theory. Biologists get excited about energy transfer in living organisms and ecosystems. Computer scientists can think in binary code (an amazing skill!). And mathematicians live and breathe for the wonder of tautologies (showing how two sides of an equation are actually equal).  

But chemists spend most of their time dealing with bonding. Molecular bonding. They want to know what holds atoms together into molecules. They want to understand the relationships between the constituent parts of both atoms and molecules. They spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to coax one little ion or electron from one spot to a different spot so it can do a different job. A chemist's stock in trade is the probability wave functions of electrons, those tiny little negatively charged particles that are so much smaller than an atomic "nucleus" and are so damned fussy about where they're willing to be located at any one time. Yet where would our material world be without them?  

Even though physicists now estimate that "ordinary matter" (that is, atoms and molecules) accounts for no more than 4-5% of all known energy in the known universe (they call this ordinary matter "baryonic matter"), baryonic matter has a lot to tell us about the nature of God. And this baryonic matter is what chemists really "get."  

A number of physicists these days are pulling out all the stops to try to find a unified theory of nature. (Hence the construction of the multi-billion dollar Large Hadron Collider). But, you know, for my part, as a student of chemistry and as a mystic, I'm wary of anyone in any field who starts to look for a simple unified theory of anything. This smacks of monism, the longstanding religious belief that when you get to the very heart of Creation, there exists only a singular, undifferentiated, divine "oneness." Plato's middle writings, such as Phaedrus (247c), speak of this colourless, shapeless, all-inclusive oneness. Many neo-Platonic Christian mystics have followed suit in the monism department. 

Needless to say, I'm not a monistic or apophatic mystic.  

Me, I think it's okay for us to listen to what God is saying to us through the language of chemistry. Even though baryonic matter (including the ordinary atoms and molecules that make up Planet Earth's waters, lands, and atmosphere, plus all life on Planet Earth) represents only 4-5% of the universe's energy, it's the only part of Creation we can directly access as human beings, and it's the only part of Creation that God seems to think we need while we're living here as angels-in-temporary-human-form, so I figure it's worth paying attention to! 

And as I said above, chemistry is all about bonding. It's also all about change.

Chemistry is a language that teaches us about the relationship and balance between the tiny negatively charged particles we call electrons and the much larger positively charged particles we call protons. It's also about the relationship and balance between certain probability wave functions and forces such as gravity, magnetism, etc. (I'm simplifying here and purposely skipping the whole subatomic particle thing, as it would needlessly complicate the discussion at this point). Chemistry is about the forces that bring particles together (sometimes for millions of years), but also about what pulls them apart.

When you think about a molecule such as sodium chloride (table salt), you probably think about it as salt. Me, I think of all the history behind this one molecule and its special importance in biological mechanisms across the planet. I give thanks for the way salt helps our physical bodies function so we can have the chance to better understand our relationship with God. I reflect on the wonder of the oceans, where the presence of salt creates a medium for life. I see harmony, balance, intentional cooperation, and divine love in our need for salt. There is a timelessness in this simple molecule -- sodium and chloride brought together, then pulled apart, over and over -- that speaks to the essential continuity of all life. The salt we shake on our french fries today was once part of ancient seas, ancient life. 

The science of chemistry is the language of change -- the constant reorganization of atoms and molecules (even when we can't see it). Yet it's orderly change. Though we, as humans, may not always like change, it's a necessary part of God's plan for Creation. If it were otherwise, we wouldn't see evidence of constant change in the rhythms and patterns of Earth's 4.54 billion year history.

There you have it -- my rebuke of Young Earth Creationism (the bizarre religious belief that the entire planet and everything on it are less than 10,000 years old).

In my opinion, Young Earth Creationism is an example of the language of theology at its worst.

* I studied chemistry as part of my undergraduate degree in Art History and Chemistry, and also in my Master of Art Conservation program.

CC39: Confessions of a Blonde Mystic

When I was growing up, I had no inkling that one day I'd become a mystic.

When I was 10, I wanted to become an archaeologist. By the time I was 12, I was sure I was going to be a writer. By age 18, I wanted more than anything to fall madly in love and focus my whole being on the love of my life (whoever the heck that was!). By age 22, I was married and enrolled in graduate studies in art conservation. By age 25, I had settled down as a stay-at-home mom.

Nothing very mystical about that.

Where there hints about my mysticism-to-be? Did I have unexplained episodes of "transcendence" as a child? Did I "see" things that weren't there? Or "hear" things that weren't there?

Nope. I was a normal, if geeky, kid. I was a bookworm, and I wasn't good at sports, and I was way too mouthy for my own good. (Still am.) But I didn't have any unusual "episodes" when I was growing up; nor would I have received any encouragement for such from my family. There was no enthusiasm for religiosity. My family were nominal Christians, which meant we went to United Church services at Christmas and Easter. Sometimes my sister and I were sent to Sunday School, but these church experiences left little impression on me. The word "spirituality" was never mentioned.

Both my parents were eminently practical (having grown up during the Great Depression). They were also quite liberal and inclusive in terms of their values. So there was no talk around the dinner table about God's true nature, or salvation, or apocalypticism. Acceptable topics of discussion included business and politics and law-abiding citizenship. I was a teenager in the early 1970's, so, of course, there were numerous lectures about staying away from drugs, lectures that I took very seriously. To this day, I've never used street drugs, and I'm one of the few people I know who's never tried pot. Not even once.

Yup. Still a geek, and proud of it.

The thing about genuine mysticism -- the Real McCoy, as opposed to verifiable states of psychiatric dysfunction -- is that genuine mysticism is not about random and unpredictable "transcendent episodes" sprinkled like chili peppers into an everyday bowl of bland and tasteless cream of potato soup. A genuine mystic (and frankly there aren't a whole lot of them out there) is somebody who's hardwired with a particular package of traits, learning styles, and talents. When these particular traits, learning styles, and talents are examined as a whole, a discernible pattern emerges, and if this pattern can be shown to be consistent over many years, then, and only then, can you say that a particular man or woman is a true mystic.

In other words, you can't call somebody a mystic because he or she reports one or two unusual "episodes" of seeing or hearing or feeling the presence of the Divine.

This is just common sense. You wouldn't call someone a professional artist on the basis of one or two beginner's paintings. You wouldn't call someone a professional mechanic on the basis of one flat tire correctly changed. Similarly, you shouldn't call someone a mystic on the basis of one or two self-reported "events." There should be a long track record of professional development and committed endeavour for practising mystics, as in any other field. This is the only way to prevent charlatans and fraud artists from ruining other people's lives with their "predictions" and "divine assurances."

What makes me a mystic (or a contemporary channeller, as I sometimes call myself), as opposed to a spiritual person or a person of deep faith?

Well, to turn it around a bit, is it possible for a spiritual person or a person of deep faith to also be a professional artist? Or a mechanic? Or a farmer? Or a teacher?

Of course! In fact, many people would suggest that if you hope to be a really gifted teacher (or mechanic or whatever), you need to bring all your faith and all your spirituality into your calling in a holistic way so you'll be able to teach (or fix engines) from the heart. This, too, is just common sense.

For me, it's the same thing. I'm a spiritual person and a person of deep faith, which makes me no different from the mechanic who starts and ends his day as a spiritual person and a person of deep faith. But where the mechanic delights in working on engines, and the teacher delights in guiding the minds of growing children, I delight in the work of a mystic, which is so philosophical and intellectual and esoteric that it would bore the living crap out of 99.9% of the people I know.

It's my passion to delve each and every day into the deepest mysteries of Creation -- questions about God, about the soul, about quantum biology, about who we are at both the quantum level and the emotional/creative level. My passion is to ask annoying questions, and my skill is to be able to hear the answers when they come down the quantum pipeline from God the Mother and God the Father. (And from Jesus, but that's another story.)

Make no mistake -- I both see and hear God. But it's not random, and it's not occasional. It's an everyday part of my life as a mystic. It's an everyday part of my life because I practised and practised and practised until I'd fully developed the talent I was born with. Through a combination of natural soul hardwiring plus committed human effort, I gradually "came into" my calling. It's an unusual calling, to be sure, but it's a genuine calling.

"When evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and he was alone on the land. When he saw that they were straining at the oars against an adverse wind, he came towards them early in the morning, walking on the sea. He intended to pass them by. But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw him and were terrified. But immediately he spoke to them and said, 'Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.' Then he got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened" (Mark 6: 47-52). This passage from the Gospel of Mark makes little sense to the modern mind, but if you think of it as something a 21st century science fiction author might write while trying to describe a true mystical connection to God, you'd be close. Painting "Solar Sailor" (c) Jamie MacDonald 2013. Used with permission of the artist.

Everyone is born with natural intuition. I'm NOT saying I'm one of the few people who has intuition. Just the opposite. I think everyone can more fully develop their intuitive faculties and incorporate that aspect of their being into their daily lives. But intuition isn't the same thing as mysticism. I want to be clear on that point. Like everybody else, I have normal intuition. But alongside that normal intuition I have another skill, a different skill, that not everyone is born with. I have what might be called, for lack of better terminology, an ability to accurately and consistently tap into the space-time continuum while in a fully conscious non-hypnotic non-drug-induced mystical state of connection to God.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Space-time continuum . . . it sounds like something you'd hear on Star Trek. The original Star Trek. And you'd be right. You're going to have to forgive me, though, because I can't think of any other way to describe it. And besides, where would the Blackberry be today if not for the inspiration of Captain Kirk's flip-phone communicator to urge inventors onward?

Did I mention I love the original Star Trek series? And TNG ain't half bad, either? (I may like designer clothes, but, as you can tell, I'm still a geek at heart.)

P.S. I'm not a medium or a psychic, and I don't believe in ghosts. So don't ask me if my life is like "Medium" or "Ghost Whisperer" or "The Listener" or "Rescue Mediums" on TV, because the answer is NO.

My life is way more exciting than that.

CC36: No Room in the Inn . . . or on the Spiral Path

I was reminded again today how much the spiritual journey for human beings can be likened to a spiral path.

Well, maybe less a spiral, and more a helix. Like a Slinky -- from one direction (end-on) it looks like a simple circle, yet from the side you can see it's actually a long, continuous, spiralling wire. Another good analogy is a DNA helix -- long, complex, and spiralling, with no two points exactly the same. Both the Slinky and the DNA helix capture the idea that the spiritual path can sometimes feel like a circle (as in "I seem to going round and round in circles"), yet a closer examination of your experiences from the side angle will reveal you've also made some forward progress.

But, you know, from a strictly artistic point of view it sucks to call the spiritual path "the helical path." Like, you can't even doodle a helix on a pad of paper and have it make any sense to somebody who doesn't know what a DNA helix is. But when you draw a spiral on a piece of paper, everybody can recognize the idea of going round and round in circles, while at the same time never being in precisely the same place. That's why the image of the spiral path has been used in many periods and in many places to represent the spiritual journey. Don't mess with a perfectly good symbol, I say. So I'm sticking with the image of "the spiral path." But really it feels more like a Slinky.

"For learning about wisdom and instruction, for understanding words of insight, for gaining instruction in wise dealing, righteousness, justice, and equity; to teach shrewdness to the simple, knowledge and prudence to the young -- let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the wise and their riddles. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction" (Proverbs 1: 2-7). Photo credit JAT 2025.

I got on this train of thought today because I suddenly decided to revisit Tom Harpur's book The Pagan Christ: Recovering the Lost Light (Toronto: Thomas Allen, 2004). I bought this book when it was first published because I'd been reading Tom Harpur's column on religion in the Toronto Star and I was curious to know more about his theories. The book was attracting a lot of attention from Progressive Christians in Canada because it seemed to offer a way out of the dangers of dogmatic, literalistic Christianity. It didn't hurt, either, that before Harpur turned to journalism, he'd been a professor of Greek and New Testament at the University of Toronto. The guy had credentials. He had credibility.

When I'm reading any book, no matter what the topic, I read at two levels. I pay attention with as much objectivity as I can to the flow of the factual argument -- what facts are being stated, what facts are being left out, what inconsistencies exist. But I also pay attention with my intuition, with my mystical side. Sometimes when I'm reading an alarm goes off in my intuitive circuitry, and I know there's something fundamentally wrong with the author's argument.

I may not know at a factual level what's wrong, but I've learned to trust the kernel of insight I receive from my mystical side. My task at this point is to accept the challenge of closing the gap between the factual reading and the intuitive reading -- to do more research on the factual side so I can understand in an objective, logical way why my "gut" is reacting to a particular author.

It often takes me years -- years! -- to do enough academic research to get to the point where I can close the gap between the factual reading and the intuitive reading of a book.

To give a specific example, it's taken me 6 years to close the gap between my factual reading of The Pagan Christ and my intuitive reading of The Pagan Christ. It's taken me 6 years on the spiral path of spiritual (and academic) learning to figure out why I was so incensed at an intuitive level when I first read Tom Harpur's book.

The information I needed didn't appear to me in the form of a "revelation," a "vision," or a "prophecy." I had to slog through sixteen half-courses in topics such as New Testament, Old Testament, early church history, and church liturgy, plus I had to research and write a long academic research paper (also called a short thesis or a cognate) on the topic of early doctrines of the soul. I had to work my ass off.

My goal in taking these courses wasn't to challenge Harpur's book. By the time I enrolled in graduate studies, I was focussed on other questions, other challenges, that occupied my time, energy, and enthusiasm. Nonetheless, with the hallmark unpredictability of all spiritual journeys, I accidentally discovered this morning that I now have the tools to challenge Harpur's thesis. The tools didn't come to me accidentally -- but the realization of what I could do with the tools kind of snuck up on me.

Somehow the spiral path has brought me back to a book, an author, and a thesis that has been quite influential in the past few years.

Just for the record, I'm NOT going to do an about-face, and I'm NOT going to claim that upon revisiting Harpur's book I've suddenly "seen the light" (pun intended). No way, Jose. To be ultra-clear, I don't agree with Harpur's thesis AT ALL -- in fact, I'm more incensed today with the ideas in his book than I was when I first read them in 2004. The difference between then and now is that I've moved forward on my spiral path. I've added to my knowledge. I've added to my experience. I've added to my healing. I've changed, learned, grown. Most of all, I've worked hard.

God helped me at every turn (and I could never have accomplished what I've accomplished without God's loving guidance), but the knowledge base I've built has come through conventional means -- such as university courses, academic journals, and interdisciplinary research. Even though I'm a mystic, I did not acquire this new knowledge through revelation. I had to use the brain God gave me. What's more, I had to use the free will God gave me. And I had to look after my body and my brain (i.e. choose a healthy lifestyle) so I could learn effectively. Just like any other person on Planet Earth. God did not make special rules for me.

Even though I'm a mystic, I have to follow the rules of healthy living and healthy learning that God wants everybody to respect. I'm able to communicate clearly with God the Mother and God the Father BECAUSE I use my free will to respect my body, my soul, my mind, and my heart in a balanced, holistic way. This life of balance lies at the core of the teachings of the man who once lived as Jesus son of Joseph.

I can't emphasize enough how radically different this claim is when compared to the claims of traditional, ascetic, cloistered Christian mystics.

Or when compared to the claims made by Tom Harpur in his book.

Near the end of The Pagan Christ, Harpur says:

"So [Alvin Boyd] Kuhn can argue that you and I, in a profound sense, are never going to be more "dead" than we are right at this moment. He says, 'Right now our deific souls are at the very bottom of the arc of death and can never be as dead again as they are now and have been.' As we live our lives here, immersed in matter, we are gaining experience and expanding consciousness. But we are, in a deep sense, alienated from, or 'dead' to, the spiritual realm whence we originally came and to which we shall one day return (page 192)."

All I can say to this is . . . speak for yourself.

CC31: How God Listens To Your Soul and Not To Your Idiocy

I remember the day when I finally accepted the fact that God could hear all the nasty thoughts I was thinking. I wanted to throw up.

Up until then, I'd been trying hard to convince myself that "what happens in my head, stays in my head." I was sure that my nasty, judgmental thoughts about other people were my own little secret. Sure, I felt guilty about those unkind thoughts. But as long as I didn't express them out loud, nobody would know about them but me.

But then I decided I wanted to learn to be a mystic. It was a conscious decision. Nobody forced me to become a mystic. Nor did I have any big epiphanies or any life-altering visions or any sudden calls from God (i.e. conversion experiences). I simply thought it would be cool.

I confess now, with the full benefit of 20/20 hindsight, that ten years ago, when I made the decision to learn to be a mystic, my motivation reeked of status addiction. This was not the best of motivations, as I've pointed out in earlier posts. I wanted to be "special," and it seemed to me that "the mystical path" would be a good way for me to become "better" than others. I confess now that this was my motivation at the time, but ten years ago, I wouldn't have been willing to admit this to myself. I desperately wanted to believe that I was becoming a mystic "for the benefit of others." I wanted to believe that I was only a humble servant of God -- a humble vessel of God's will. Really, though, what I wanted at the time was the status that comes with being a mystic.

"Then Jonah prayed to the Lord his God from the belly of the fish, saying, 'I called to the Lord out of my distress, and he answered me; out of the belly of Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice. You cast me into the deep, into the heart of the seas, and the flood surrounded me; all your waves and your billows passed over me. Then I said, "I am driven away from your sight; how shall I look again upon your holy temple?" The waters closed in over me; the deep surrounded me; weeds were wrapped around my head at the roots of the mountains. I went down to the land whose bars closed upon me forever; yet you brought up my life from the Pit, O Lord my God, as my life was ebbing away'" (Jonah 2: 1-7a). Photo credit JAT 2018.

I wasn't entirely devoted to my own selfishness, however. There was a part of me that genuinely yearned for a deep sense of connection with God. There was a part of me that was very . . . lonely. Very sad. There was a part of me that felt small and quiet and vulnerable, that wanted to reach out to God, but didn't know how. This part, of course, was my soul. But I didn't know that at the time. I was too busy filling up my head with New Age idiocy to recognize the voice of my own soul.

Good news, though. God was much smarter than I was, and God didn't pay any attention to my ridiculously vain and selfish New Age/devout Christian prayers. God listened only to my soul. My soul was saying, "I want to remember how to love," and that's the only choice I made that God was willing to help me with. I must have offered up 20 selfish prayer requests for every time I asked God to help me learn how to love. God ignored the many selfish demands I made (thank heaven we have a God with common sense!), then God put my nose to grindstone on the one prayer I'd asked that was worth asking.

I had no idea that this one sincere prayer would be such hard work for me, my family, and God. I had no idea that I was literally asking God to help me rewire my entire biological brain.*

You would assume, naturally, that the process of rewiring a person's entire biological brain would take a great deal of time. (It did). And a great deal of experienced help. (It did). And a great many changes in daily lifestyle. (It did). And a great many conscious changes in attitude. (It did). And many moments of painful insight. Plus setbacks. And moments of quiet healing. And tears along with great joy.

It did.

How I Felt At First. Although most of the time my brain felt rigid and full of selfish weeds, God saw the spring flowers waiting to bloom. My sincere wish to remember how to love was the trillium God saw and nurtured. Photo credit JAT 2014.

That's what it felt like, and many spiritual seekers have described similar feelings. But inside my biological body, at a neurophysiological level, changes were taking place. My neurons and glial cells were changing, adapting, making new connections, breaking old connections. My immune system was changing along with my entire nervous system. I was getting a gradual "nervous system makeover." This happened because my body was rewiring itself to accommodate my new regimen -- my new regimen of remembering how to love.

If I've learned anything about the spiritual journey, it's this: no human being anywhere on Planet Earth at any time in Earth's history has ever been exempt from this biological reality. You are a package deal. You are a soul intertwined with your biological body, and you can't find spiritual enlightenment if you're punishing or mistreating your physical body (for example, through ascetic practices). It's a scientific reality that nobody can escape, though most mystics want to pretend they're exempt from these rules.

Eventually I realized that I was -- am -- a package deal, and that as part of this package deal, my thoughts and feelings are not hidden from God. My thoughts and feelings are an open book. I can try to fight this reality, or I can work with this reality. It's my choice. If I try to fight it, I hurt myself, and I end up hurting the people I love. If I decide to work within this paradigm, and trust that God forgives me even when I make a mistake, then I'm using my free will in the most loving way possible. I'm using my free will to trust in God's love and forgiveness. I'm using my free will to be in full connection and relationship with God. I'm using my free will to be open to their observations and suggestions for constructive change.

Of course, this paradigm pretty much implies that change is part of the healing process.

So . . . this runs smack into the painful truth that religious leaders who reject change in favour of the status quo (status addiction) are not part of the healing process.

I'm very grateful to God the Mother and God the Father, plus the soul who once lived as Jesus son of Joseph, for being so patient and so firm and so consistent with me. They got me on track -- the track I'd chosen of remembering how to love -- and they never gave up on me. They stuck right with me, and they put up with a lot of abuse from me, until I got it through my thick head that my soul was -- is -- okay.

As for those nasty thoughts I used to have . . . I don't have them anymore. Eventually I learned that those nasty thoughts were the "voice" (as it were) of status addiction. I was looking for a way to raise myself up inside my own head by putting other people down. (Yeah, it really is that simple!) When I confronted my own status addiction issues, and stopped denying the harm I was creating for myself and others, I no longer needed the "high" of thinking nasty thoughts.

So I stopped.

It's a great cure for that feeling of wanting to throw up because you're carrying so much guilt, remorse, and embarrassment about your own nastiness.


* Only recently have neuroscientists come to understood how malleable and changeable the human brain is. This new field of research is known as "neuroplasticity."

CC19: The Life of a Mystic: Welcome to Groundhog Day!

In 1993, Columbia Pictures released a modest film billed as a "romantic comedy fantasy" that stars Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell. "Groundhog Day" continues to be a favourite for many people. It's a feel-good movie, a tale of redemption. Bill Murray is in top form as TV weatherman Phil Connors, a man who starts out arrogant, nasty, judgmental, angry, impatient, and not especially talented or competent (although he thinks he's quite brilliant). In short, he's a typical middle-aged North American. By the end of the movie, he's kind, empathetic, polite, patient, and very talented. At the beginning, he has no heart. At the end, he finds his true heart. Only then does the universe consent to release him from the time warp he's caught in.

"He also said, 'With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all the shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade'" (Mark 4: 30-32). The human journey of redemption can be likened to the transformation of a small mustard seed into a life-sustaining shrub. Another way of thinking of redemption is to compare it to a heavily tarnished silver vessel in need of cleaning. Once the thick layers of tarnish are laboriously removed, the true nature of the treasure is able to reflect and enhance the light of Love. Photo credit JAT 2018.

This film is about the the universe's refusal to accept Phil Connor's excuses for his nasty behaviour. As Phil gradually comes to understand he's part of a bizarre karmic "catch and release" program, it's apparent the universe also refuses to accept his initial handling of the situation. The universe steadfastly ignores his denial stage, his angry stage, and his depressed stage. Only when Phil himself decides he wants to be a kind, empathetic, polite, patient, talented person, and only when he decides that he likes being such a person, does time start to move forward again. The message is clear: Phil can't control the environment the universe has chosen for him -- the time warp reality of Groundhog Day -- but he can control his own thoughts and feelings about the situation.

This film is the best representation I've seen of what it feels like to have a mystical connection with God.

That's why I put it at the top of my list of "best spiritual films." By way of contrast, I don't have a spot for Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" on my list of helpful spiritual films. To my way of thinking, "The Passion of the Christ" is a propaganda film, not a spiritual film.

"Groundhog Day" makes a number of powerful claims:

1. The universe (God) pulls out all the stops for everyone, not just for specially chosen Messiahs or the specially chosen sons of kings, presidents, and CEO's. Phil Connors is a regular guy with a regular job, not a person at the top of the fame chart.
2. The universe (God) knows Phil isn't choosing to be the best person he's capable of being. The universe has an opinion on this.
3. The universe (God) never gives up on Phil. Despite Phil's initial resistance, and despite the length of time it takes for Phil to decide he wants to be his best self, the universe is consistent and steadfast towards him. (This can be called God's Tough Love.)
4. The universe (God) sets up the painful learning environment. God is in charge of this part, and no human can control it.
5. The universe (God) gives each person free will.
6. People can change.
7. People won't change unless they want to (free will).
8. People are capable of amazing transformation once they decide they want to change.
9. It takes lots of time for changes to unfold. Redemption isn't an instant process!
10. It takes lots of sincerity for changes to become permanent. You can fake out your neighbours, but you can't fake out the universe. The universe (God) always knows your true intent, so you have to mean it when you say you want to change.
11. It takes hard work and consistent effort on the part of a person who wants to find redemption.
12. People need help from others as they struggle to change! They can't do it on their own. They need help from people who care about them.
13. People make mistakes on the journey of change and redemption. That's okay!
14. Engaging in active learning helps the process of change. (In the film, Phil starts to take courses -- piano lessons and medical training, for example.)
15. Engaging in active service in the community helps the process of change. (Phil develops a Good Samaritan routine in the timeloop community where he's living.)
16. The more Phil learns and the more genuinely empathetic he becomes, the more humble he becomes.
17. The more Phil learns and the more genuinely empathetic he becomes, the more dedicated he becomes to serving his community . . . and bonus -- the help he offers is actually needed!
18. Phil finds his heart when he finds himself.
19. Once he's found his heart, he's still a regular guy. But now he's able to trust himself. And he's finally able to like himself. He feels inner peace at last.

This is the process I had to go through, so I can really relate to it. My "Groundhog Day" initiation into the journey of redemption lasted for years. I had no idea at first what I was trying to do, and I made the same mistakes over and over again, but -- thank goodness for me and my family -- my angelic guide refused to give up on me.

And the 19 point summary I've posted here is the work I had to complete BEFORE I could begin to call myself a practising mystic!

I tell ya' -- those angelic guides are tough sons of bitches. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

CC17: My Firsthand Experience With a Modern Apocalyptic Prophet

Even to this day, I can't believe I missed the signs of Grace's major mental illness.

At the time I first met Grace in 1998, I was working in the mental health field. Every day at the office I met and spoke with people whose lives had been torn apart by major depression, bipolar disorder, OCD, and Axis II issues such narcissistic personality disorder. I'd seen people suffering from psychotic depression, and I'd seen some of those psychotic patients undergo miraculous recovery after proper treatment. So it's not like I could claim ignorance.

Ignorance, no. But naivete . . . yes, I admit to a heaping dose of that. And compartmentalization. I made the near-fatal mistake of compartmentalizing spirituality, of separating spirituality from everyday life, of trying to place my spirituality -- and Grace's -- on some sort of special pedestal.

In my naivete, I was trying to climb the ladder of spiritual ascent. At the time, I thought that was a good thing. Only later did I realize that the path of holy ascent can be likened to a Boston Marathon of spiritual narcissists all scrambling to beat each other to the top of the special pinnacle where only a few special people are chosen to be especially close to God.

Like Plato. And Paul. And my spiritual teacher Grace. Apocalyptic prophets, all. Supremely confident. Absolutely convincing in their sincerity. Charming and persuasive. Endlessly energetic and enthusiastic. Psychopathic as hell.

That’s me in the red shirt during my Big Fat Idiot Stage in 2003. That’s Grace on the right in the light blue shirt (though she wasn’t looking particularly beatific during this shot).

 
I met Grace when I went for my very first Reiki healing. A mutual friend had arranged the Reiki healing for me. I knew very little at this point about New Age spirituality, and even less about traditional Christian mysticism. But I was eager to embark on a more spiritual path in my life (not so surprising for a 40 year old woman), and I'd suddenly found a bona fide Reiki master in my own community! It seemed too good to be true.

Grace had a beatific face. True, she was obese, but that was only because she so enjoyed cooking for other people to make them happy. True, she could knock back 5 ounces of vodka in half an hour, but that was only because she had a high threshold for alcohol (and she never drank the day before a Reiki healing). True, her two adult sons used alcohol and cannabis heavily, but that was only because they were so friendly and sociable and couldn't say no to their friends, and in any event they were loved unconditionally by their parents, regardless of their behaviour. True, she became heavily addicted to pornography, but that was only in the context of a loving, monogamous relationship. True, she had a violent temper, but that was only because . . . well, that was only because she was right and other people were wrong, and she needed to clearly express to other people that she wouldn't tolerate their unfair criticisms of her.

What mattered most to Grace was her spiritual path. She had trained as a certified Usui lineage Reiki Master. She revelled in the language, the symbolism, of it. Handpainted symbols covered the walls of the room in her home where she carried out her Reiki healings. She lit scented candles, played gentle, reassuring instrumental music, spoke in a reassuring tone. She talked the talk of divine love from beginning to end.

She talked endlessly and sincerely about divine love. She talked about the wondrous gift of divine healing that could come to people through hands-on healing. She said loudly and often that "we are all One, we are all equal." She constantly strove to update her knowledge through New Age books, Internet sites, and spiritual workshops. She took new courses. She taught new courses. She seemed like "the real deal."

But Grace was all talk. That's all she did -- talk. She did not practise empathy in her own life. In fact, she was one of the most vindictive, most unempathetic, most controlling, most self-entitled people I've ever met.

That's why I have to thank her. I have to thank her for teaching me so consistently and so painfully that you can't trust a spiritual teacher on the basis of words alone. You can't trust the teachings of a dysfunctional spiritual teacher. Everything Grace did was focused on Grace. She said she cared about her students and her Reiki patients, but she didn't. She cared about herself. She only taught spiritual teachings that made her feel superior to other people. She needed to be "the Master." She needed to be one of God's specially chosen messengers. She needed to make prophetic claims. She needed to be in charge of other people's spirituality. This was how she coped with her dissociative disorder.

Don't get me wrong -- Grace was highly dysfunctional for a damned good reason, and I know that. She was a survivor of an abusive childhood home, where an alcoholic father sexually abused his daughters, and an alcoholic mother humiliated the children. It's to Grace's credit that as an adult she managed to hold down a respectable job and stay in a stable marriage for as long as she did. But Grace was unable to accept that she had addiction problems and needed professional assistance. By the time I met her, she was a mess. And her "commitment" to her path of spiritual ascent made life worse -- both for herself and for her vulnerable students.

I didn't break off ties with Grace until 2005. I hope that in the past few years she has received the care she needed. Somewhere underneath all her vitriol was the kind and loving person God knew she could be.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance to know that person.

CC11: Okay, I'm a Heretic. But So Is Jesus!

Okay, I admit it . . . I'm a heretic.

I refuse to accept the teachings of orthodox Western Christianity on a whole bunch of topics. 

I refuse to accept that God is "One."  

I refuse to accept that God is a "Trinitarian One."  

I refuse to believe that a cosmic evil force (called Satan, among other names) exists. 

I refuse to accept that the sacrament of baptism has any magical powers to save people. 

I refuse to accept that the sacrament of communion has any magical powers to save people. 

I refuse to believe that Jesus is the only begotten Son of God or is the Saviour. 

I refuse to believe that God's children are unworthy of God's love or incapable of having a relationship of integrity with God.  

You might think this puts me in the camp of Progressive Christianity or Unitarianism. But wait! I'm not finished yet! 

I also refuse to believe in a world where God the Mother and God the Father don't intervene. 

I refuse to believe in a world where angels don't exist. 

I refuse to believe in a world where miracles don't exist. 

I refuse to believe in a worldview that's exclusively Newtonian. I'm a quantum gal all the way.  

"Meanwhile, when the crowd gathered by the thousands, so that they trampled on one another, he began to speak to his disciples, 'Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees, that is, their hypocrisy. Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. Therefore whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered behind closed doors will be proclaimed from the housetops'" (Luke 12: 1-3). The church of today reminds me a lot of this porcelain lamp that belonged to my great aunt. The functioning parts that once held the light source have long since been lost. Only the forms and traditions of the base have been retained. The base is quite lovely, but without the truth of Jesus’ original teachings, the forms aren’t able to shed the full light of God’s love on our lives. Photo credit JAT 2015.

I'm a heretic as far as the United Church of Canada is concerned because I don't believe that Jesus is our Saviour. And I'm a heretic as far as Progressive Christianity and UU adherents are concerned because I'm a mystic who believes in miracles.  

But here's the thing . . . (and you're probably not going to like this part) . . . everything I currently understand about God, all my heretical ideas -- I got them from the angel who once lived as the man named Jesus. This is what my mystical life has entailed: listening to Jesus. Just listening to what he has to say about God. Just listening with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind and all my strength to Jesus' own take on what he said and what he did and what he was trying to accomplish in his life.  

What Jesus has told me during thousands of hours of contemplative work over the past 10 years is radically different from what the United Church and the Anglican church taught me. It also diverges from what my theology professors have said. But what Jesus has been telling me isn't "new." It's not a bunch of hot-off-the-press New Age hooey.* The evidence for what he's been telling me is right in the Bible. It's been there all along, sitting in plain sight for everyone to see. 

The problem for readers is that the Bible doesn't contain just one truth. The Bible contains many competing storylines and conflicting agendas. It's hard to sort them all out. It's hard to figure out who said what, and, more importantly, why they said what they said.

Jesus has patiently shared much time and knowledge to help me understand why. It took me years to understand "why," but once I did, I began to see that certain passages of the Bible resonate strongly with Jesus' continuing message, and other passages sound like the opposite of Jesus' teachings.

In my time working with Jesus, he has always insisted on rigorous scholarship. Therefore, as part of my mystical journey, I've had to learn the tools of biblical exegesis as they're currently taught in a modern university setting. I've studied the basic grammar and vocabulary of Koine Greek. I've delved into church history and the development of church doctrine over the centuries. I've read translations of Paul, Tertullian, Augustine of Hippo and the like. I've done a deep dive on the polity manual of the United Church of Canada (including the appendices). On the basis of my mystical work in combination with my ongoing academic training, I'm totally confident in saying that what Jesus taught his followers 2,000 years ago is not what the church has been teaching.

I'm a heretic because I've listened carefully to what Jesus has taught me about God, and I think Jesus is right. 

Jesus was (and still is) right when he says the best model for understanding God is for us to think of the most wonderful set of parents possible, and go from there. (This would not exclude two wonderful homosexual parents!)

Jesus is right when he says that no single ritual such as baptism or communion can replace the need for people to take responsibility for their own choices towards other people, themselves, and God.

Jesus is right when he says that institutionalized religion has never taught the faithful what forgiveness is.

Jesus is right when he says that the true journey of faith is one of redemption, not one of salvation.

Jesus is right when he says the core consciousness of a human being -- the soul -- is beautiful, worthy, and amazing. The problem of suffering is not created by sinful souls. The problem of suffering is created by many factors, one of which is damage in the biological brain that prevents people from taking responsibility for their actions.

I think Jesus is a pretty smart guy. 

* If you want to see an example of what I mean by "hot-off-the-press New Age hooey," I invite you to read a copy of The Mystical Life of Jesus by psychic Sylvia Browne.

CC5: My Big Fat Idiot Stage

If you'd asked me when I was ten years old what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have exclaimed, "An archaeologist!" 

I was in grade 5 when this fancy first came upon me. It seemed like a pipe dream at the time. I didn't know any archaeologists. Up until then, an occasional summer's day spent rock-hounding was the closest I'd come to the avocation of carefully sifting through ancient layers of dirt to uncover their buried stories. But when I was ten, I fell in love with the idea of archaeology. If the Indiana Jones films had existed at that time, I'm sure they would have been my favourites.

  "Again he began to teach beside the sea. Such a very large crowd gathered around him that he got into a boat on the sea and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land. He began to teach them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: 'Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and it sprang up quickly, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose, it was scorched; and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. Other seed fell into good soil and brought forth grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.' And he said, 'Let anyone with ears to hear listen!'" (Mark 4: 1-9). Shown here is the house where my family lived until I was about 5. It was a modest home for a middle-class family who worked hard and took responsibility for their choices. It suited us fine.

I wasn't that far off, as it turns out. When I was in Grade 13, I was invited to participate in a two-week archaeological dig at an historical site in Toronto. When I was an undergraduate university student, I worked for three summers at a Toronto area museum. Then a dream come true . . . graduate school in the field of art conservation, with the chance to work on museum objects. I knew that if I had the chance, I could work on site as an archaeological conservator. So I was pretty close to my childhood fascination.

But, you know, the universe had other ideas about what I ought to be doing, and a week after I finished the research paper for my graduate degree, I was pregnant. By the time I was 25 years old, I was a full-time married stay-at-home mom (a choice I was very happy with).  

Not that I left behind my interests; I just took them in new directions. By the time I was in my early 40's, ready to start my full-blown mid-life crisis, I found some new layers of dirt with buried secrets to dig in. That's when I began my spiritual journey.  

You have to understand that until I hit the age of 40, I was the most ordinary middle-class Canadian you could imagine. My spiritual experiences had been modest, to say the least, even when my younger son died of leukemia when he was three years old (and I was 31). This had changed me, of course, but it had changed me at an emotional level rather than a spiritual level. I had become less harsh and less judgmental towards others as a result of our family's terrible trauma. But I can't honestly say I understood God any better when my son went through the hell of cancer treatments, and I can't say I liked God any better when my son died. My then-husband, who was a devout Baptist-High Anglican (go figure) seemed to have some pretty old fashioned fears about divine punishment being visited upon the sons, although he wisely didn't express such thoughts in front of our older son. I basically thought God was being pretty mean. I don't think that now, but that's what I thought in 1989.  

Some years later, in 1998, I started to ask spiritual questions. I didn't know what I was looking for. I just felt an inner impulse to search for, well, to search for answers. The fact that I didn't understand the questions was no impediment to my search for answers. This is how I led myself down the garden path. This is how I spent several years of my life -- right up until mid-2003, in fact -- in my Big Fat Idiot Stage.  

In my Big Fat Idiot Stage, I read tons of New Age material. I read most of the "big names" in the New Age field. I started with Brian Weiss (Many Lives, Many Masters) and Elizabeth Stratton. I took Reiki classes (this turned out to be a huge part of my Idiot Stage), and I avidly studied books by Barbara Ann Brennan (Hands of Light) and many others. When I read Neale Donald Walsch's first book in the Conversations With God series, I thought I'd struck spiritual gold. And when I stumbled on Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now, I was certain I'd finally found the "answers." I was so busy looking for answers that I failed to notice I didn't yet have any good questions. 

I still own copies of these books in case I need to transcribe exact quotes from them, but I now keep these volumes in my "Toxic Book" section. I also added Rhonda Byrne's The Secret to my "Toxic Books." I tell you this so you'll know ahead of time that you won't see me promoting any of the ideas put forward by these New Age writers. 

Some of these New Age trends, interestingly, are not new at all, but in fact are very old -- much older than the oldest parts of the Hebrew Bible. So you also won't find me repeating damaging themes in the Hebrew Scriptures and New Testament that promise prophetic powers, ascension, Oneness with God, or cosmic laws of consequence. These teachings should come with a red tag on them: Warning: Scrupulously Following These Teachings Will Turn You Into A Big Fat Idiot, And Cause You to Embarrass Yourself And Your Family In Ways You Never Thought Possible.

Yes, I have no one but myself to blame for the time in my life when I embarrassed myself and my family by naively embracing the messages of these books. 

During my Big Fat Idiot Stage, when I believed in New Age teachings on abundance, I foolishly co-purchased this humongous country house with a Reiki master who prophesied that our spiritual healing centre would be a huge success. It wasn't. I lost a lot of money on this "divinely prophesied venture," but I never again made the mistake of believing there's an easy route to knowing myself or God. God doesn't hand everything to us on a spiritual platter just because we think we're privy to special cosmic truths.

As it turned out, I eventually found redemption in the teachings of Jesus, although how this happened, and why, is not the usual story.  

My journey of redemption began when I realized that I hadn't lost the scholarly skills of my youth, that I could bring the process of methodically digging away at different layers -- each with its own story to tell -- to the mysterious journey of spiritual healing.  

That's when my work really began as a scientifically oriented, liberal, blond mystic.  

That's when I turned to my academic background in hard science, especially Chemistry, plus my five years' of work experience in the mental health field to help me begin to ask what the questions were.  

That's when I finally started to grow up.

CC4: The Blonde Mystic

Okay, so I'm a blonde mystic. What's the big deal about that? 

June 2014

 It's not a big deal at all if you believe, as I do, that the call to be a mystic is no better than -- and no more extraordinary than -- the call to be a teacher or a police officer or a nurse or whatever. I have a job to do, and I try to do the best job I can. I'm no different than anybody else who feels drawn to a particular path. My path is a bit uncommon, but I take it seriously, just as teachers and police officers and nurses take their paths seriously. 

I do not subscribe to the orthodox Christian view that says contemplatives and mystics have a "higher calling" than other Christians. This is the view that puts monks and nuns in a special category compared to other people.* It says this select group of people is closer to God, higher on the ladder of ascent, or chosen -- take your pick. I think this traditional view of "spiritual ascent" is a big part of the problem with orthodox Christianity. 

I usually don't tell educated Christians about my daily mystical practice. I keep my practice to myself because I'm kind of tired of having other Christians make the false assumption that I think I'm better than they are. I don't think that. I think we're all in this life together, walking side by side, rather than trying to scramble up some sort of spiritual ladder (and mashing each other's spiritual fingers in the process.) "Different" shouldn't be a synonym for "better," although the history of Christianity is in some ways the history of certain groups of people believing they are both different and better than everybody else. 

Police officers have a different path from nurses, but police officers aren't "better" than nurses. Same thing with mystics. Mystics have a different path from most people, but they aren't "better" than other people. I just want to be clear about that. 

I am no longer a natural blond. I was blond as a child, but later my hair darkened, and after that my hair turned grey. I am a blond thanks to chemical intervention from L'Oreal. I am a blond because I'm not an ascetic. 

I'm not an ascetic because I live according to a "mystical rule" of moderation, balance, common sense, and brain health. 

These four "rules,"especially the rule about brain health, put me far outside the traditional understanding of how Christian mystics live. But I'm a person of science as well as a person of mystical inclination, and recent advances in neurophysiology have convinced me that many traditional mystical practices are dangerous and have no place whatsoever in the modern church. This is why I don't fast as part of my spiritual practice. 

Intentional, long-term fasting for "spiritual" reasons will damage anyone's brain. (Naturally, I'm not talking about short-term occasions of fasting that may arise, which your body can handle.) I'm a mystic who believes in eating balanced foods in moderation because God seems to have designed the brain with a balanced lifestyle in mind for everyone, including mystics.

Crazy ol' me, thinkin' my brain and body are a natural, beautiful part of God's creation! 

As I said above, I am NOT a Gnostic. I'm a mystic who thinks we should be listening more to what God is saying through science, and less to what Christian tradition is saying through, well, tradition, when it comes to healthy spiritual practices. 

I'm a fully practising mystic who thinks it is irresponsible and naive for church leaders to ignore the serious health risks that arise when traditional ascetic practices are embraced. 

If I didn't know better, I might think the church was more interested in preserving its traditions than in protecting and enhancing the mental, physical, and spiritual health of its congregants! 

Gosh . . . where would I get such an idea?

  * If you want to read more about this tradition, you can check out the chapter called "The Monk Who Rules the World" in Jaroslav Pelikan, Jesus Through the Centuries: His Place in the History of Culture (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 1985).

CC3: Some Reference Books I Read & Recommend

I think it's important that readers have a chance to assess a writer based on the writer's own influences. The contents of a writer's own bookshelves tell you something about the core perspectives of the person.

(Notice how I've made the assumption that writers have more than one bookshelf!)

The books related to Christianity that I resonate most strongly with are books that are written for a lay audience by highly respected academic researchers who are not afraid to ask difficult questions, and are not afraid to cross the tightly drawn lines that artificially separate academic disciplines from each other. (For instance, biblical scholars and systematic theologians and religious studies scholars often won't speak to each other.)

In other words, I like books that are clearly written, well researched, and interdisciplinary.

"Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, 'Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.' And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.' The Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the Lord said, 'Look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech.' So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of the earth; and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth" (Genesis 11: 1-9). Some books I'd read by 2010. Photo credit JAT 2015.

I write notes all over my books, which is why I buy books rather than borrow them from the library. I'm on a budget, though, so I look for good reference material in used bookstores, etc. I've never met a dictionary I didn't like.

A lot of today's progressive Christians are reading books by Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and John Shelby Spong. I have books by these authors on my bookshelves, but these aren't the books I go back to, and these aren't the books I recommend. These well-respected scholars are trying to reenvision Christianity, and I respect their motives, but I disagree with their suggestions about how to do it. I don't think they're asking the right questions.

One book I really like is York University professor Barrie Wilson's How Jesus Became Christian (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2008). Don't be put off by the cover, which is really, really dreadful (sorry Dr. Wilson!), and is a good example of why authors should try to get "veto rights" in their publishing contract for the title and book design. Interestingly, Wilson says he was raised Episcopalian, but converted to Judaism because of the latter's emphasis on praxis rather than "belief." I've been wondering if the word he was really looking for was "fideism" (blind faith) rather than "belief."

I also like Bart Ehrman's books.* He has written a lot of material for lay audiences, and some of it has enraged conservative and evangelical Christians. (After his 2005 book Misquoting Jesus became a hot seller, angry rebuttals in book form began to appear.) I don't agree with Ehrman's interpretation of Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet, but at least he's not afraid to boldly outline the many inconsistencies and competing agendas of the biblical authors and their early Christian followers. Ehrman, like Wilson, has allowed his research to affect his personal life. In his youth, Ehrman was a devout evangelical Christian. He is now an agnostic.

I enjoyed Elaine Pagels's 1988 book Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (New York: Vintage-Random House, 1988). Her historical synthesis was daring for the time, and her conclusions were controversial. (She dared to suggest that Christianity ought to reappraise Augustine's "singular dominance" in Western Christianity.) Pagels is better known, though, for her work on the Nag Hammadi texts, and the Gospel of Thomas in particular. I would like to emphasize here -- strongly, and in bold letters -- that I, personally, am not a Gnostic. As I continue to post on this blog, it will become clear why I feel I must clearly state that I do not hold Gnostic beliefs. (I guess I'm a little touchy because some Christians I've encountered who ought to know better, because they're experts in their fields, have an unfortunate tendency to conflate Gnosticism with anything non-Newtonian. I don't think this is an acceptable scholarly attitude in the new era of quantum entanglement/non-locality.)

I also really enjoy reading the bimonthly magazine Biblical Archaeology Review, which is available on good newsstands, including Chapters/Indigo. Ya gotta love editor Herschel Shanks's pluckiness. Plus the photographs and maps that accompany the articles add an interesting dimension to the material. (As I mentioned in my profile, I come from a family of teachers and artists, so I'm drawn to educational materials that have a strong visual component.)

One last reference source I should mention is the Bible. In my research, I mostly use The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with Apocrypha and The Jewish Study Bible: Featuring the Jewish Publication Society TANAKH Translation. Both these Bibles include extensive footnotes and scholarly articles. The translations are based on the most current and most comprehensive translation methods. But no translation of the Bible is written in stone. I use the Bible as historical source material, not as "inviolable truth" or the literal "Word of God." There's good stuff in the Bible, but there's also some stuff that's gotta go. When I say it's "gotta go," I don't mean it should be physically removed from the Bible, because that would be the same thing as burning books, and burning books is too close to fascism, if you ask me. I mean there are parts of the Bible that need to be reappraised in light of what they actually say about our relationship with God. We need to be honest about what some parts say, and we need to decide whether or not those parts can be "redeemed."

That was kind of long and boring, but I'm trying to show that I hold the methods of historical research and scientific research in high regard.

This is why it may come as a shock to you to learn that my first calling (well, my second calling, actually -- beginning in 1983, when I became pregnant with my first child, my highest calling has always been motherhood) . . . my primary spiritual calling is my ongoing commitment as a Christian mystic.

Yup. I'm a scientifically oriented, liberal, blond, United Church mystic.

Now there's an oxymoron for you.

Have a great day!

 * Addendum July 2026: Although I benefited from the research in Bart Ehrman's pre-2011 books, I believe his shift to outright atheism has created fertile ground for cognitive dissonance and strident polemics in more recent books.

CC1: Welcome!

Welcome to my blog! This is a blog about liberal Protestant Christianity in Canada in the third millennium.  

"You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to scripture, 'You shall love your neighbour as yourself'" (James 2:8). The spiritual pathway of Concinnate Christianity isn't straight and narrow, but instead winds through life with moments of deep connection to your inner self and God. The focus is on healing and redemption rather than sin and salvation. I often wander through this Toronto park, James Gardens, because its harmonious blend of natural features helps restore me. Photo credit JAT 2017.

You've probably never heard of a branch of Christianity called "Concinnate Christianity." It's a name I used for a few years on a Progressive Christian message board to describe a modern church based on Jesus' teachings about love, forgiveness, healing, freedom, and humbleness.

My Random House dictionary defines "concinnate" in this way: Trans. verb "to arrange or blend together skilfully, as parts or elements; put together in a harmonious, precisely appropriate, or elegant manner." 

There's also a noun ("concinnity") and an adjective ("concinnous"), but I don't really like the sound of "Concinnous Christianity," so in the time-honoured tradition of the English language, I'm using the verb as a new form of the adjective. I can't promise I'll always be elegant in my posts, but I'm going to try hard to be clear, precise, and balanced. If I fall short of this goal, you can let me know.  

Thanks for reading. Best to you all.