Independence, Ghosts, and Spirits

So, yesterday Rangimarie house threw a party for us. Specifically speaking, the party was for me, since it was an American Independence Day celebration and I'm the only American. Weird, since Canada Day was only 3 days prior and it passed without so much as a single celebratory whisper. One thing about L'arche: there are lots of excuses to party and they are employed, seemingly at random, depending on how long it has been since the last party. Birthdays are often combined and minor holidays are often skipped, unless found to be convenient. Nevertheless, a regular party ensures that celebration remains a central tenet of our community. This Saturday, many Kiwis will be celebrating Mid-Winter Christmas, which for us, includes a sleepover for the whole community out at Ngatiawa (that rural, Christian community I mentioned earlier). Mid-winter Christmas is basically a completely fabricated holiday that was designed to compensate for the fact that New Zealand usually has to endure an endure winter without a single national celebration. Pretty sweet, if you ask me. At this point, I'm all for inventing new traditions. L'arche does love a good party. Don't worry, I'll try to get some decent pictures this weekend.

Back to Independence Day: Christian, the house leader at Rangimarie, grilled hamburgers. It was his way of being as American as possible. For me, I felt a bit more at home. The burgers were good, but very small compared to traditional American ones. Everything is smaller here. More accurately stated, everything is larger in the US, especially food items. Hamburgers, milk, soda pop, everything...by about double in terms of either volume or mass. I think that, if I weren't in L'arche, I'd be annoyed by it. But, within this organization, fast food is a luxury, sweets are a rarity, and grocery shopping is a weekly event at an absolute maximum. Smaller items and portions just seem to fit with the pace of life. I now have but one consistent vice: a weekly pack of Hubba Bubba bubble gum, worth about 3 Dollars Kiwi.

I've been thinking alot lately about Christianity and practices of hospitality, partying included. My working definition of "hospitality" is as follows: The welcoming of guests by hosts. Hospitality always involves making space; a displacement of some kind. I mentioned in an earlier post, and am still quite keen on the idea, that the word "guest" comes from the same German root as the words "geist" and "ghost." This root word means "stranger" or (my personal favorite translation) "enemy." Jesus said to pray, not for our friends, but for our enemies, to make space for the people who harm us. After having read Levinas, I think that this has got to be an issue of Ethics, straight up. It just makes sense.

According to Levinas, the absolute Other is what we might call the Transcendent. In Latin, the etymology of this word means "climb over" or "pass over." Levinas uses this to say that Ethics is always a "passing over" of self. Other calls the self into question. For me in college, I was called into question by the poor and, eventually, the disabled. The very existence of these people put my Self, literally, my very salvation at risk; it put my sense of Being in jeopardy. As well it should, for the Kingdom of God is an image built upon absolute justice and nothing less. I had no choice then but to make room for the poor within my Being. The Church, in it's long history, has often come to the same conclusion; that it has no choice but to confess the limits of itself and displace at least a part of Self in favor of Other.

In my senior thesis, I explored this concept of displacement and I called it "wound." I simply don't know how else to describe a sudden and provocative opening. Like a stab or a gunshot, Other always seem to make a wound in its displacement of Self. Wound is always painful, but it need not always be negative. In genetics, for instance, breakage is necessary for mutation, change, and the overall evolution of life. Wound becomes a necessary component of flourishing.

Now, let's apply this same principle to organizations such as L'arche. These are organizations that we may call hospitable in that they make space. They invite the Other, even in its displacement of Self. The stranger or enemy comes and, in breaking some part of society, forms a new consciousness with it. In the case of L'arche, it began in the Christian Church. The Otherness of those with disabilities displaced, to being with, only two people: Jean Vanier and Father Thomas Philippe. Here, a new consciousness, a new Being called "L'arche," was created. But L'arche, or any organization like L'arche, need not have started with the Church. Buddhists, Muslims, or Secular Humanists may have well as started it. Although such a founding would have created a very different sort of spirituality, the result would have likely been similar.

My point in this exercise is this: All people, it appears, have some kind of spirituality. I do not mean to say that spirituality is an innate quality by itself, but that spirituality is an expression of the need to be transcended. That is, all people appear to have some method, rhyme, or reason for displacing their Self. They all seem to need a way to make room for Other within Being. It is this displacement which we commonly call the phenomenon of "spirituality."

I'm not a big fan of the phrase, "I'm spiritual, but not religious," but I can understand now why people like to say it. Not everyone has a known method for getting over (transcending) themselves. The word "Religion" comes to us from the Latin "religare" which means "to bind fast." Originally, I hated this etymology. Religion, I thought, shouldn't be a "tying back" or a simple "reigning in." I now realize, however, that when one ties his or her spirituality to certain people, places, rituals, ceremonies, or texts (any kind of practice, really), then, at this point, we encounter the phenomenon commonly called "Religion." For Christians, the idea that God was made incarnate in the figure of Jesus Christ is our big tie-back. It's an anchor for what we may aptly term "Christian spirituality" and it, therefore, creates a phenomenon dubbed, "the Christian Religion."

Now, back to hospitality: If Hosts welcome Guests and if Guests are essentially Enemies, then how interesting it is that a ghost who is welcomed becomes a spirit. The change in language is subtle, but you'll notice that it makes all the difference. Ghosts haunt us, even when they are pleasurable, but spirits endear us, even when they are painful. In Christianity, we welcome "The Spirit" during hard times, times of discernment, times of trial and desperation. The churches from which I hail are continually on the lookout for where the will of God is making itself known, even if such a revelation causes discomfort. The only thing which changes between the phenomenon of "ghost" and that of "spirit" is the act of extended hospitality. A stranger welcomed is a spiritual guide.